Stupid Copypasta

So, I was stumbling through the internet, when a certain post caught my attention. It’s almost poetic in it’s description of how women self sabotage, so I put it up here, along with my comments underneath it.

Men are just simply happier people, and here is why…

Your last name stays put.
OH NO, MEN SUBJUGATE WOMEN BY MAKING THEM CHANGE THEIR NAME! Nobody is forcing you to change your name, you idiot.

The garage is all yours.
Pretty sure the garage is the car’s territory.

Wedding plans take care of themselves.
Yes, because you take it upon yourself to plan the entire goddamned thing.

Chocolate is just another snack.
Isn’t it obvious that putting emotional dependence on a food is a bad idea? We’re better off for it.

You can be President. You can never be pregnant.
Move to a different country, or leave the defeatist attitude. Nobody likes a crybaby. No shit. You can’t be kicked in the balls. And even if childbirth is worse, you aren’t able to give childbirth potentially 5 times a day, for a year.

You can wear a white T-shirt to a water park. You can wear NO shirt to a water park.
You could too.

Car Mechanics tell you the truth.
How about, and I realise this is hard, you go onto the internet and spend a bit of time figuring it out yourself? Then you can call them on their bullshit. Oh wait, I forgot, men are all out to keep you women down, and they’ll find some other way to get you. My bad.

The world is your urinal.
That’s what I thought, but those priests got REALLY frigging uppity! What makes water “holy” anyway?

You never have to drive to another gas station restroom because this one is just too icky.
Neither do you, goddamnit.

You don’t have to stop and think of which way to turn a nut on a bolt.
Righty – Tighty, Lefty – Loosey. Remember that.

Same work, more pay.
Hahahaha, yeah.

Wrinkles add character.
And another one that means absolutely nothing. Guess who’s putting all this emphasis on your looks? You.

Wedding dress $5000. Tux rental-$100.
The only reason those things cost so much is because you idiots pay so much for them.

People never stare at your chest when you are talking to them.
Maybe they do. Maybe it doesn’t make a difference, because you’re getting offended about anatomy.

The occasional well-rendered belch is practically expected.
Yep. You know who shouldn’t care if you belch? Everyone

New shoes don’t cut, blister, or mangle your feet.
If you just got some decent damn shoes, neither would yours.

One mood all the time.
I do love a good generalization!

Phone conservations are over in 30 seconds flat.
More of the same, generalizations are super cool.

You know stuff about tanks.
Here is the sum of my knowledge about tanks. They have guns. They are made of metal. Sometimes, people sit in them, and sometimes they stand in them. Wow, that’s certainly something to be jealous of.

A 5 day vacation requires only one suitcase.
So does yours! Just wear less!

You can open all of your own jars.
Yep. If you don’t like it, work out more.

You get extra credit for the slightest act of thoughtfulness.
Because you assign it to us.

If someone forgets to invite you, he or she can still be your friend.
Because we aren’t vindictive pricks. We have enough self-confidence or self-doubt to know that people can exist without us, or that we can be dicks.

Your underwear is $8.95 for a three-pack.
Because we pay less for our straps of cloth to cover the genitals.

Three pairs of shoes are more than enough.
They’re more than enough for you, too.

You never have strap problems in public.
True. Well done.

You are unable to see wrinkles in your clothes.
Oh, we can see them. We just don’t care. You shouldn’t either.

Everything on your face stays its original color.
Because we don’t slam our face into a bucket of makeup every day.

The same hairstyle lasts for years, maybe even decades.
Whut? Someone with a mullet is unbelievably out of date.

You only have to shave your face and neck.
So do you. In fact, not even that. You just do.

You can play with toys all your life.
And what are all those handbags and superfluous shoes?

Your belly usually hides your big hips.
My big hips hide my big hips.

One wallet and one pair of shoes one color for all seasons.
Again, it’s the same for you.

You can wear shorts no matter how your legs look.
SO CAN YOU.

You can “do” your nails with a pocket knife.
SO CAN YOU, GODDAMNIT. YOUR ONLY PROBLEM IS YOUR RETARDED VIEWS.

You have freedom of choice concerning growing a mustache.
Yeah. So do you.

You can do Christmas shopping for 25 relatives on December 24 in 25 minutes.
And that’s absolutely fine.

No wonder men are happier!

No wonder, because men don’t relentlessly self sabotage.

Chain Mail

So. Recently, I got sent a particular piece of chain mail that irritated me to the point where I felt like I JUST HAD TO GO ONLINE AND TELL PEOPLE ON THE NET ABOUT IT. Because you know, you all care so very, very much.

Anyway, the chain mail in question was one about how you totally shouldn’t drink and drive, because this one girl who didn’t, thats right, she didn’t, she got totally killed by some guy who was like, totally drunk and stuff? It’s all written in the form of some exceedingly shitty poetry, my someone who has rather a fragile grasp on the ideas of rhyme and metre, and it’s interspersed with flashes of bright green text.

Now, lets just take that first part to bits here, shall we? Firstly, the girl who didn’t drink and drive got killed. Thats right, the person who did the right thing got completely fucked in your preachy little story. It’s not said but it’s certainly assumed that the other driver is fine, which means that in the galactic score of car crashes, that’s plus one for drunken-ness over sobriety, which means that your shitty little poem is aiming at the wrong audience. People are, at heart, selfish little bastards, and they’d always, always rather a stranger die than them. The drunk driver is  probably depressed, but at least he’s alive. Meanwhile, Little Miss Sober is quite dead, and while she’s certainly not depressed, I’m fairly certain she would have rather not been dead. Not that we can ask, because she’s dead.

Also, screw your entire fucking pretentious attitude towards the topic. Were this a topic such as illegal drug use, then yeah, I’d be fine with it. But alcohol is a legal drug, and it’s  a massively used legal drug. In fact, it’s so massively used that, why, shock horror, it’s become socially acceptable to do it! Isn’t ait such a pity that our society has degraded to the point where people can ENJOY theirselves LEGALLY? Why, as an offended person, you must do something about it! As a MOTHER, you have a responsibility to! Because having a child legally exempts you from ever being wrong ever about anything even remotely connected to your child!

But thats a topic for another day. The main reason I’m writing about this is the bit that was tagged on at the end. The reason I didn’t copy and paste the whole thing was because the entire thing is infected with stupidity, but I feel that I can quarantine this small part enough for you to safely read it.

“If you receive this petition and do nothing but delete it, your selfishness knows no bounds ..
Signing is such a small effort to make.
After you have read the poem, please add your name at the bottom. And never forget,
DON’T EVER DRINK AND DRIVE , not even once, thinking that it won’t matter.
IT DEFINITELY WILL MATTER!!!”

Thats it up there, in all its shittily formatted glory. Now, the core that started all of this was the line “If you do not forward this petition, your selfishness knows no bounds”. Now, listen here you stupid fucking lady, and you listen good. My selfishness is no greater than anyone elses. My will to help my fellow man is just about normal. What is deeply below average is to stomach pretentious bullshit.

After you write a poem which preaches to me about some idiotic girl who think’s she’s too high and mighty to drink, and then praise yourself within it to the point where it’s basically just a hype piece for you, then you no longer get to talk about selfishness. You cannot talk about selfishness, because your entire fucking organization is called Mothers Against Drunk Drivers, and your express purpose is to bitch about the fact that YOUR lives were changed by drunk drivers.

And now, I look like a dick, because thanks to you, I come out looking like I support drunk drivers, and I want people to get hit by cars. Let it be known, I don’t want to kill people. I don’t want people to lose their daughters, and I feel bad for them. But when people have the fucking GALL to bitch and moan about how it’s effecting them, make an accusatory, pretentious email, and then call ME selfish, I get angry.

Dreams

Before you get all antsy, I’m not doing one of those artsy things where I interpret the dreams, and act like I have all this mystical knowledge, because if you don’t know by now that i have mystical knowledge, there’s no hope for you. Instead, what I plan to do is write about the effects of dreams on the person (that is, me), the day or days after they occurred.

So, first up, I begin to realise exactly how much of myself this could potentially reveal about myself, but with my usual short sighted self sabotage, I decide I couldn’t be arsed about the future consequences. Also, damn, look at the alliteration on short sighted self sabotage. Awesome.

Anyway, the real first up is a dream wherein my brother really, really pissed me off. I mean, to the point where, in the dream, I kicked his laptop over the shed. In real life, needless to say, kicking a laptop, especially one thats apparently madeof weight and lead would probably hurt a lot more than it would move over a shed. Regardless, I was pissed. And so, when I woke up the next day, I staggered out of my bed to get some coffee, saw my brother, and gave him the finger. When he (entirely reasonably) enquired as to why I was so angry, I told him to shut the hell up, then stormed off. Showed him, eh? That’ll learn him for….

Wait, shit. I didn’t kick his laptop over the shed, he’s using it now. I had a dream where I was pissed at him and now I’m actually pissed at him in real life. Unfortunately for my relations with my brother that day, that knowledge did not abate my anger in the slightest, it just made me feel guilty when I saw him.

Next up, a dream wherein I found true love. Now, you may think that I may be overstating this a bit, but it seriously seemed like, holy shit, life was about to get really good. However, I was at that moment shaken awake by my father, who told me that I had to leave for school. And thus began one of the shittiest days of my life. I can’t even begin to remember the dream itself, but I have a strong reminder of the feeling, and after comparing it with my current situation, needless to say, I became very depressed.

And this was not something that was around for a day and then was gone the next day. No, this was a feeling that hung around for weeks, and generally speaking, highlighted the more annoying parts of my life.

Thirdly, a dream which still haunts me to this day. It happened a few years back now, and let me tell you, it may well have been one of the major traumatic events of my life. My family, for reasons entirely unknown to me, was holding some kind of social gathering, with children playing and everyone laughing and generally being happy. And I was happy too, playing with the littl’uns without a care in the world.

And then, I looked up. I saw a whole other planet, ringed with red smoke and fire, comets orbiting it as it began it’s slow descent towards Earth. Towards my house. Towards me. And in that instant, I knew that everything I owned, everything I cared about, everything I loved, was absolutely, 100%, without a doubt fucked. And all the while, the kids kept playing, the adults kept chatting amiably. And even as I watched, the planet moved slowly closer and closer.

Obviously, goddamnit. The whole “Planet coming to fuck up all your shit” idea has pervaded every single thing I do, especially in one of my most beloved mediums, gaming. In Morrowind, I look up to see a moon with a red planet apparently sitting right next to it

Now, these two things obviously could not exist side by side, gravity being alive and well in Morrowind. So obviously, this planet was a new enitity, and the fact that it appeared to be headed right to-fucking-wards me meant that it was going to collide with my planet, which I was currently inhabiting and was enjoying not being destroyed. Therefore, shitshitshitshit. My brain flew through this train of thought in roughly one planck moment, then decided the best way to deal with this was to completely lock up every one of my muscles for ten seconds while I stared at the planet in mute horror.

Needless to say, my body is an idiot sometimes. And this is hardly the only time this has happened. Spore is one game that seems to delight in making me require new pants, and plenty of other games seem to think my sanity is unnecessary.

Anyway, that’s about all that I feel like writing right now, and I feel like I’ve said far too much for me to be posting this online. But hey, self sabotage, right? Lets see how this goes.