Hallmark Christmas movie. Academic writer. Wrote a best-selling book. Her Dean calls to tell her that the “university press just wired your royalties. Two million dollars.” 😂😂
I really regret not capturing this on video. I apologize it. It is glorious.
The Dean just pulled her aside at a dinner party to say, “how does tenure sound to you??” Then she got a call from Stockholm. It’s just her mom. They missed a real opportunity to work in the Nobel.
She goes back in time and chooses the man instead of $2 million and tenure and media tours. Let me explain something to you. For a fraction of that $2 million you can buy a man. At full retail.
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I had an absolutely delightful retreat the first part of the day, followed by a typically horrible and racist medical consult in the afternoon. It is hard to communicate how much I loathe the medical industry.
He implied, repeatedly, that I couldn’t afford his services and rolled his eyes when he said “blacks”. I’m sure he doesn’t even know he did it. Or cares.
I despise medical doctors and maybe we aren’t talking about revoking the right titles
It is called Timeline. They’re existing in two different timelines that somehow crash into each other during Christmas. He is mid 30 year war and inherited the memories of every conflict through the big brain machine that socializes for the government. She has been in Hallmark.
She doesn’t understand war and keeps asking if his timeline doesn’t have enough Christmas cookies for everyone. He spends the movie trying to teach her the art of war through the micro interactions of competitive holiday decorations that drive the only conflict in her timeline.
When he inevitably returns to his timeline, he takes her gingerbread cookie receipt with him. The purity of biting off a sweet lifeless cookie head quells the desire for violent conflict that’s ruled his timeline. He invents ritual warfare for his people, bringing peace.
This is such a strange image. It’s like hallmark movies. My white sight blindness morphs with some light tricks and everyone is simultaneously 50 and 12.
That’s clearly an adult head on the maybe female presenting being but the body frame is prepubescent? Throw in blonde hair which totally wipes out my ability see anything, and I am not even sure that’s a human being.
The maybe male presenting person is clearly a child but his eyes have seen more than the eyes of the adult-child female presenting person standing beside him. She has never seen snow. He has seen war.
I talk to just enough celebrities to know that I do not want anymore of the "limelight" than I have right at this moment because things like that last bit are really quite enough for me. It isn't fun being a human projector screen.
I get thousands of these and that's just a drop in the bucket of what truly famous people get. I really don't know if I think there any compensatory factors. Okay, sure, be richer than white christian god. But that's a lot of work too.
Millions of people acting out their identity issues at you all the time just seems horrible. Even if you do have one of those fancy cars without an engine.