So in my feelings with this one. Just thank you, whoever made this happen at NPR. 🙏🏾
I just want to stroke his hair. Not in a creepy way. Okay, maybe in a creepy way.
Okay maybe I’ve been a little haughty about the girl-who-supports-the-rock-band trope. But if he needed it (and he does not, to be clear) I would legit sponsor El. Just keep him okay and singing. I see how it happens now.
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There is something about people who play “jackass style pranks” on people. I don’t like them and I’ve yet to be proven wrong.
Those pranks are on the edge of “abused animals” which we accept as a anti-social warning sign of one of the -pathys. So of course the Jerrys enjoyed playing pranks. They’re pathys.
I am frustrated so I went to a stupid workout class. Now I’m sore and frustrated. Thanks Obama.
Anyway, I know I have to wake up tomorrow and walk away from something. My spirit is clear about that. But that will be a figurative walk because my hamstrings have one long cramp going on.
Also? Screw you. I work hard. Just screw you, world!!
I sure try but if it makes anyone feel better many of my students hated me last semester. lol Class was too easy and too hard, too long and too short, etc. but certainly try.
And it’s not always to my benefit to be this way. Audiences actually love a sermon. Every week for almost ten years now I’ve gotten at least one e-mail from a reader demanding I tell them what/who is “good” or “bad”. People love moral certainty.
But I know exactly who I am and what I do in the world. I’m not your girl for good/bad. I’m your girl for yes/and And that’s okay. We get to exist too.
And god help me if you bring it up FREQUENTLY to explain who you are today, as an adult. It just means we have little in common. Great if it works for your peer group. It doesn’t work for mine
Because as you start going on about how Billy pushing you in the 10th grade made you skittish around water fountains, I have nothing to respond with. I have no idea what happened in the 10th grade. None. Those aren’t my formative years.
It's become a real screenwriting crutch, like a skull on a bookcase to indicate someone is "smart" in a particular "you're going to hate them" kind of way. It's lazy.
I know I had a good score because I got a full ride. And I couldn't tell you that score if you paid me.
In general, I do not get along well with adults who ever talk about high school. It's just a bad, bad sign. College is only okay if its a story about being a ho and/or your first edible experience.
The way I hedged this and still managed to bring out a hundred “but what about mes” is all on me.