A friend shared this screenshot of an online dating profile she encountered, and aside from the fact that this man is obviously insensitive garbage, um…no psychiatric illness RHYMES with depression, you fucking nimrod. People don’t have “cepression.”
I mean, I guess depression rhymes with itself? But that’d be a pretty shitty poem. You should take a creative writing class or something, I bet you could learn some ways to work around that mental block. Or even just Google “words ending in ession” — Oppression. Concession. Transgression. Impression.
I’m not sure how I continue to be surprised at the appalling things my family will like and share on Facebook.
My father just shared a fucking Monica Lewinsky joke about all this Nike ad nonsense, and here’s what really chaps my ass — the joke wasn’t even FUNNY. (“Believe in something, even if it means swallowing everything. Just do it.” HA HA HA HA, OH WAIT, NO, that is actually a shitty joke.)
Dad, you and I are about to have a conversation about all the miscellaneous dicks I had in MY mouth at age 22, and how maybe I’d love to not be judged for it decades later and pulled into TOTALLY UNRELATED ISSUES, because the dudes were complete morons. I didn’t even have the self-esteem to AIM for the president — I was jocking my manager at a Blockbuster Video in Jersey, getting finger-banged in the candy closet. (To this day, if I see a box of Sno-Caps, I get MOIST.)
Also, just…fucking EW! I’m your daughter, and you have nieces and grandchildren! I know you’re a dude and all, but CHRIST!
It’s possible I need to lay off Facebook for a while. Or just mute my own goddamn father. Again.