I’m not usually big on the emotional pornography – unless it does some good.
And I feel like my Facebook feed is doing a good job of posting the kind that has a purpose this week. (Well done, e’rybody.) Maybe it’s that Valentine’s day just happened and everyone’s still in a lovey dovey mood. Or maybe it’s that Friday the 13th just happened before that and when we’re all terrified of dying, we become suddenly aware of our own mortality, and start prematurely doing the deathbed lament and regret list thing of “I should’ve spread more love and beauty into the world…” Whatever the case is, I’m seeing some goodies, so I might as well share and file it under “shit to open your heart chakra”:
Let’s start with the reason I’m not having kids:
Because unlike this dude, I’m not selfless enough to lie about something that doesn’t benefit me:
I would be lying if I said that didn’t tug at my heart strings at least a bit like it was some death knell for my non-maternal tendencies. But I chock this up to me being a sucker for single dads and any montage in HD with the kinda depressing music you’d hear in a movie where someone’s dying of cancer and takes a trip to the beach for their last day alive.
Next is this pup and his extrasensory snout.
Which led him all the way to his human in the hospital.
This one hit home for me ‘cause my sister’s pit-bull (who sadly is among the few I’ve met – and I’ve met a lot – who lives up to the bad stereotype people assign to the breed) is totally loyal to her. I mean, he’d Krueger-ize my face in seconds if we were left alone together, but he’d definitely die for her. And since she’s started getting these seizures, he does this thing with her where he’ll lick her ankle like it’s an open wound when she’s about to have an episode. There’s something equally enchanting and terrifying about the fact that dogs have this quasi-telepathy-precognition ’cause it means that my cataract ridden shih-tzu knows more about me than I do myself. She’s like this furry blind oracle without the capacity for speech. Maybe she’s hoping I’ll start reading the shits she takes on the carpet like tea leaves instead of scolding her for it.
My own pre-cognition tells me… not so much.
And then we’ll end with this one:
Which I can’t make fun of. And it’s not just because it’s like the moment Marina Abromavic’s ex lover sat down across from her during her similar performance art piece “The Artist Is Present”. And it’s definitely not because someone started cutting onions in here when the no-shit-bish old lady said in all sincerity, “In 55 years we haven’t done that…” which then turned into a Bateman-esque maniacal laugh cry from me when she said, “But sometimes I look into your eyes to check your blood sugar.” Don’t ask me why I found that sweet as fcck. ’cause I can’t tell you. I’m embarrassed it even happened.
Welp, that’s it for today.
Hopefully this dose of sentimental MSG will be addictive enough to make you seek out and spread more.
Instead of the slew of hate about Uma’s new face.
#LeaveBeatrixKiddoAlone!