I just heard “Livin’ on a Prayer” on my Internet radio at work, and even though actually dancing on my desk is frowned upon, there was some serious gyrating and hair tossing in my head, and my desk chair got the ride of its life.
#JerseyRepresent #ILiveInPhillyNowButStill
Snag in one of my new life goals: Turns out you can’t block an email address unless you have an existing email from the person you’re blocking.
It’s been maybe 6 months since I apparently VERY thoroughly deleted all that in an attempt at mental feng shui.
It’s also been about 6 months since this was even an issue, so I probably don’t NEED to do it. I was just going for a Rachel-Green-style “And THAT, my friend, is what they call CLOSURE.” (I realize that’s a bad metaphor; that turned out a lot differently than this is likely going to.)
And there was comfort in the idea, because there wouldn’t be anymore worrying about letting my guard down when checking email — let’s be honest, stupidly half-hoping I’d ever be worth more than a drunk-texted apology at 3 a.m.
I’d have disappeared, so my brain could be all, “WHAT?! Come at me, bro!” [/Jersey]
Alternately: “Nyah, nyah, you can’t get me!” [/inner child]
Normally with people I like/love/respect, I’m very, “I’m not gonna diss you on the Internet, ’cause my mama taught me better than that.” It’s part of why I don’t talk much about my ex, because he’s still one of my best friends and I don’t need to air those issues publicly. My close friends and my therapist have heard it, and that’s enough. (Plus, if I ever said anything here that got back to him and hurt him, I’d jump out a window. [I know. Hence the therapist.])
But OTHER than him, we’re all OK with me being kind of an asshole on my own site on occasion, right? We know I’m a little insane but generally a nice human, except when I get pushed too far? Because tempers are gettin’ a little Jersey up in here at Smug HQ — people are stepping to my backyard swagger. So, um…fair warning, sometimes I’m an asshole, but generally only in writing. (And in my defense, it really does take a lot. I mean…they had it comin’…)
(I love that I’m clarifying as if any of you gives a dick if I’m not Gandhi.)
A guy on OKCupid emailed me and said he was surprised to find a “culturally aware, well-read woman” from my hometown.
At first I wasn’t sure what to do with that. Uh…thanks for the…”compliment…?”
I decided it reeked of pretension and ignored him. But the subsequent swearing in my head had a Jersey accent.
(One of the reasons I started hating New Lad was because he talked shit on my hometown. ‘Ey. Fuck you. You’re a Mets fan, man, go fuck yourself.)
Smug Singleton 