Nyquil on the Rocks

Not to be Insensitive…

But natural disasters happen. Everywhere. Literally every place in the world has natural disasters unique to its particular clime. 

Sand storms, earthquakes, hurricanes, flash floods, tsunamis, blizzards, droughts, volcanoes, landslides, avalanches. You name it, it happens. 

I don’t think it’s necessary to wax on and on about how horrible the present natural disaster is compared to the last one when we’ll only need to wait a year or two for the next horrifying disaster to happen. It’s the cycle of life. Shit happens.

When you live on a flood plane, or under a levee, or in the continental north, or in a place literally named “tornado alley,” one must expect things to happen. You have two options;

1. Stop living there. Boom. Problem solved. Until you encounter the disasters of the new area you moved to. 

2. Calm down, have a Coke and a smile, rebuild your house for the fifteenth time, and deal with it.

Sorry, not sorry.

anhe-donia:

nyquilontherocks:

anhe-donia replied to your post: dearlucid replied to your post: Serotonin never…

Perhaps. Or, perhaps my problem is with the mini fridge’s mini freezer unit. And its mini ice cube tray. It’s either mini ice cubes or a Hot Pocket. Choose wisely.

Or several candy bars? I’ll go with several candy bars.

You and your hard, snappy chocolate. If you have a Reese’s cup in there, I call dibs.

You have a problem with that which is hard and snappy? And you call yourself a woman.

Dog Water

When she broncoed me, I squirted out a little dog water.

anhe-donia replied to your post: dearlucid replied to your post: Serotonin never…

Perhaps. Or, perhaps my problem is with the mini fridge’s mini freezer unit. And its mini ice cube tray. It’s either mini ice cubes or a Hot Pocket. Choose wisely.

Or several candy bars? I’ll go with several candy bars.

It was like fear and embarrassment didn’t exist.

It was magnificent.

Nothing like having hundreds of dollars to brighten your mood.

Cult of Derpinality

Religions are just cults that are really old and popular.

Who are we
But wicked dead
Caught cold
And waiting for inevitability

We are nothing
if not predictable animals
Lying in wait
Doing only what we know

Our legs break
Beneath the weight
Of our lying words
And careless actions

Let them break
Because tomorrow
Dies in a day.

Five Lessons Polygamy Taught Me

mildnarcissism:

Rather than advocating that polygamy is glorious, I’m aiming to highlight its valuable lessons. Polygamous lessons can be applied to monogamy in an effort to fix some glitches. My first open relationship was long-distance, we’d see each other every other month and we’d have a shit ton of fun. When we weren’t together, I made it pretty clear that he could do whatever the fuck he wanted, provided he wasn’t hitting on my mom or something. Here are five things I learnt in my polygamous relationship. Enjoy.

1. The values of jealousy: There used to be a female friend in my polygamous boyfriend’s life who made me jealous. Funnily enough, they weren’t even screwing. They drank coffee often and he liked a lot of her bikini photos. I was furious. “Why do I not mind him sleeping with other women and yet here I am, getting jealous when he likes a friend’s bikini photos?”

One day, the lightbulb blew: I understood why I was jealous. It was so simple: the bitch was slimmer than me. Boyish and athletic, she represented that volley-ball-swatting-broad-shouldered physique I craved throughout my teens. On the other end of the spectrum, I embodied the broad-hipped, squishy, child-bearer’s body. Figuring out what made me so fucking jealous helped me confront an underlying problem: “Timea, perhaps you should hit the gym and work those biceps, huh?” And so I did. (Do you want to see my biceps?)

2. The art of sexuality: Sometimes we understand our sexual organs in the same way we understand material things; as things to be owned, used, touched. In reality, my vagina doesn’t work that way. If anything, my vagina is like a fucking universe in itself rather than a flower-shaped pink passion fruit you can poke with your banana-ramama love stick. Polygamy taught me to detach from understanding partners as “mine”, and let me embrace some pseudo-Buddhist shit of you + me = us. What you have is not mine, what I have is not yours, but when our elements combine, we make something new.

Besides, let’s be real, men’s impulse to fuck is different to women’s. Sometimes fixed rules cannot govern the needs of both genders. Let them eat cake, (and pussy). If my partner is smouldering, seductive and smart, then he’s a universal joy. I don’t want to hog all that heaven. (Heaven is not a private member’s club but it’s somewhat exclusive.)

3. Understanding my needs: An open relationship can allow you explore what kind of relationships you want to construct with different types of people. The freedom to choose to date lost rockers, broken hearts, moody poets, uptight students and yet still remain fundamentally grounded in something meaningful taught me some interesting lessons about myself. While my polygamous boyfriend was strong, disciplined, meticulous, and arrogant, the men I picked for casual flings were boyish, sheepish things with holes in their socks and a tendency for premature ejaculation. (Sorry, had to mention it.) A myriad of characters is good for you. You can only figure out what shade you are if you spend time standing next to the nuances and tones of the entire colour wheel. (I’ve realised I’m a purple.)

4. When to talk: Polygamous relationships are not embedded in popular culture or institutional norms so if you choose to pursue one, you’re on your own. You need to build up a unique constitution, an original rule book, one outlining the do’s and don’t and sins and glories. This is achieved only through thoughtful discourse and honesty. Sit down, talk it out, come to a conclusion, employ it. What do you really want? It’s totally down to you. It’s fucking liberating to amend the rules and honestly tell your partner exactly how you feel. In monogamy we tip-toe around some issues because we’re afraid of hurting our partners or making them jealous. That stigma is gone and so are the rigid rules you learnt in romantic comedies. Ciao!

5. Not giving a fuck: Detaching yourself from monogamy can allow you to assess what really makes you mad and what, urm, doesn’t actually matter. Over time, the things that used to stress you out don’t seem to matter so much. Beyond that, you might begin to explore deeper “philosophical issues”. What is sex? What is love? What draws two people together? Less time for silly relationship problems, more time for late night deep philosophy on the sofa.

True love isn’t concentrated in a single place; it’s dispersed throughout the universe at random. And that’s what polygamy taught me.

Holy fuck, this is magnificent. I’ll have everyone know that I turned on my computer exclusively to reblog this.

I tried, but somewhere along the lines, you slip back into what you know.

dearlucid replied to your post: Serotonin never smiles on men like me. Stuck here…

The harem I get, but what’s with you and the mini fridge?

You got a fucking problem with a mini fridge?