I’d rather be fat than dumb.

An acquaintance posted on Facebook that a bad stretch of depression had caused her to gain back weight she’d lost, and some cheery fitness fucker commented “Awe, you can do it again with exercising and eatting healthier again! It’s mind over matter. Everything in moderation. Tell yourself you can do it! πŸ’ͺπŸ˜πŸ‘”

OK, obviously I don’t know your life, but also? Blow me a little.

Who doesn’t know about diet and exercise IN THEORY? Everyone KNOWS about it, bitch — you ain’t droppin’ science. Don’t talk to her like she’s an idiot like she doesn’t already feel bad enough. Ass.

And it’s not “mind over matter” if your mind is what’s telling you cake will fix things, and guess what, cake DOES fix things.

Finally, UGH, the “Awe” instead of “Aw” — I think we can all agree those people can’t be trusted.

As always, Shonda Rhimes said it best…

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Establishing my average cost per issue (CPI)

I spent the day with some family, and just went to text their latest gossip to my sister. But then my brain went, “You really wanna start THAT conversation? Remember, insurance hasn’t started supplementing therapy costs yet.”

Good call, Brain.

This is actually a handy system, minding my mental efforts according to how much it’s going to cost me to fix the anticipated outcome.

Speaking of, who’s proud of me for lying to my stepdad’s face when he asked how my car’s been running? πŸ™‹πŸ»

You said “avoidance” like it’s a BAD thing…

I went to therapy last night, and only just now realized I completely forgot to bring up the thing I’d been meaning to discuss, and we ended up on some other bullshit entirely.
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Me: “Well, if I forgot, it must not have been THAT important.”
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Also Me: “Or you’re becoming an expert in avoiding uncomfortable topics.”
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First Me: “You can fuck right the hell off. That is an undervalued life skill!”
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πŸ™„
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I’ll make a note for next time.

Hope and bedsprings eternal

There’s a Chris Rock bit where he talks about men talking too damn much and ruining a woman’s desire to fuck them — “You say the wrong thing, them panties are comin’ up mighty fast. A woman wants to fuck you? Shut up, let it happen.”

(I’m QUITE sure this also happens when women talk too much to men — I have most assuredly DONE it, I know my own.)

But I went out tonight to see a friend’s band play at my local townie bar, and immediately wanted to bang one of the singers — hot, glasses, tattoos, super muscle-y arms that could throw me all around… UNF.

But then dude started talking. And during the course of his performance, he said someone had “killed hisself,” and he also dabbled in some light “jokey” homophobia AND as a bonus, mocked his friend for saying something kinda intellectual-like — you know how we hate all that book learnin’.

Also, he swore so much that even *I* was like, “GodDAMN, man. You wanna fuckin’ dial that back?”

So. Alas, tonight was not the night I lured an unsuspecting male back to my lair. But hope springs eternal!