Sometimes Netflix requires too much effort.

Jesus, Netflix, YES, I am still watching Scandal. Didn’t you INVENT the binge watch? Let me hide from humanity in peace. I don’t feel like moving my arm to find the damn remote — what am I, a triathlete?

Judgy bitch.

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At the very least, the palate of my vagina is cleansed.

I accidentally saw something fucking AWFUL in Facebook’s “trending” news sidebar, and felt pretty close to either crying or throwing up at my desk.

I took a few minutes to breathe, then went online in pursuit of a palate cleanser. I put #Scandal on Netflix out of habit, just for background noise to finish out the workday, but didn’t realize which episode I’d left off at.

Y’all? Never underestimate the healing power of Marcus and Mellie bangin’ on a desk. 

(The other thing will likely still roam the halls of my brain for a couple days, but #MellieBelly does help.)

 

“Last Night a TV Saved My Life”

BRB, have to go marry this woman:

“I’ve got this shit called FEELINGS and they are the goddamn worst…Feelings are fundamentally UNFAIR and TERRIBLE. Something happens to you, totally outside your control, and then you just have to feel BAD for god knows how long? Don’t get it, don’t like it.”

YUP. In the past few years, I’ve taken breaks from/avoided my stupid feelings by mainlining Scandal (multiple times), Grey’s Anatomy, Gilmore Girls, Breaking Bad, and Jane the Virgin, along with repeated viewings of standup comedy specials and comfort movies.

Not sure if that’s a SIGN of depression or a coping mechanism for it, or both, or just totally normal behavior for the age we live in, but…screw it, it does help.

Via Ravishly:

The Elusive Self-Esteem Boost and a Therapeutic Three-fer

tumblr_nxv8fb4zS71r3iw3do1_500.gifIf you’ve never had a day where you look in the mirror and think, “GodDAMN, I look good,” I highly recommend it.

Spring and summer clothes and weather really are my wheelhouse. I’ll also be buying more of this new makeup (aptly made by Tarte) and thanking the gods of hair for blessing my rolled-outta-bed coif today.

Sometimes a plan just comes together, and today it did, in the form of my unplanned FINE ass.

“Give it up, boys and girls. Admit it. I look GOOD!” (Don’t judge me, Bette is my jam.)

P.S. I went to therapy tonight, and one of the first things she said to me, unprompted, was, “You look wonderful!” So there you go, y’all — my cuteness is verified by a licensed professional. (My brain went full Cady-Heron-in-the-black-dress: “I KNOW, right?!”)

P.P.S. Tonight’s agenda: Therapy, takeout food, and Scandal. So basically a therapeutic three-fer.

Slut Shame and the Blame Game

I had scheduled a date. I was going to meet an OkCupid person. We were going to go to a Philly taproom I’ve wanted to go to for years but never had time/company. They have fried PB&J, and I KNOW y’all don’t think I’m above eating the HELL out of that on a first date.

Yeah… I can’t. I started thinking about our conversations, the number of red flags I’d been letting pass because they were “just little things” that made me go “Hmm…” But when considered together, they make me really uncomfortable. I have a bad vibe I didn’t get from the initial OkC messaging, but have had for the past few days of texting. I told friends about less than half of those “little things,” and they told me to cancel, and cancel NOW.

But something in my brain felt guilty, like I should meet him because I said I would, because I said we’d at least be friends, because I flirted, because I took the flirting further than I should have, because I am a sexually frustrated attention whore, and because what did I expect would happen when I behaved that way?

Sound advice from a friend: “Don’t help them think only with their dicks until you’ve at least seen their face.”

On occasion it seems a self-proclaimed male “feminist” bloviating that, “Women should be able to express their sexuality without fear of being judged!” translates to, “I’m going to make demands on your time and behavior, and treat you like you owe me something, even when you’re sick, or busy, or clearly don’t want to.” I guess I’m only free to express it when the whoring works in your favor?

But I am legitimately concerned, all bad Spidey Sense, and fuck that. I’m not gonna get axe murdered just so everyone at my funeral can remember me as NICE. (My friends wouldn’t — they’d be like, “GAWD, how was she such an accommodating asshole when her asshole never actually accommodated anyone?!” My mom would probably be proud I died polite, though… [Ahem. Too dark?])

Anyway. I should’ve known when I found myself telling him we had to go out Monday because I was “busy” on Thursday — busy watching Scandal, but busy nonetheless.

It’s possible I have more feelings than one normal person should, like maybe I evolved wrong, or missed a meeting. Because I shouldn’t be blaming myself for being “slutty” here. (“Well, yeah, I feel like he’s overstepping my boundaries, but how would he know I even HAD boundaries?”) And if I’m actually worried about my safety (not a TON, but…a little), I REALLY shouldn’t feel bad about either just saying “no” or blocking his number.

My orgasm: “It’s handled.”

I would like this to happen to me in the very near future.

I can’t figure out how to embed it because everything (read: ABC) is dumb, but here: This is a scene from last night’s episode of Scandal, and I am coveting the experience HARD.

I’m just gonna send the guy this video like it’s office training material. Except the office is my body, and “You bettah WORK.” (Ahem. I apologize for that.)

If Scott Foley ever grabbed my hair and put his mouth on that part of my neck, we wouldn’t have even made it into the apartment — I would have just pulled up the dress and ridden him like we were in the Hallway Tour de France. And I’m not ashamed to admit that watching him do…THAT to Olivia, even just for a tragically fleeting moment, produced an actual tingle. Kerry Washington gives great sex face.

Don’t judge me, we all have our deal. Mine just happens to involve being occasionally slapped on the ass with a fashionable leather glove by a trained assassin. Whatevs.

#Scandal #TGIT #TeamJake