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Cut! From My Facebook Page…

I miss the days when you broke up with someone and just never had to see them again. Ah, those were the beautiful good old days.

The internet is seriously fucking up this process for me. And when I have kids they are limited to how much time they are allowed to spend on the internet in order to curb the emotional damage that gets done when you live and date in relation to the internet.

Facebook, seriously, I spend way too much time on you. And I cant delete him off of my friends list without feeling like I am hurting someone’s feelings, but do I really need to keep reading his vague and slightly-emo status updates forever and ever? I dont know what he is referring to and so of course I just assume its my fault. That’s how it goes.

Clearly this is really pissing me off today. I cant find anything funny to say about it and my coffee hasnt kicked in yet anyway. Maybe that is a good thing. Water makes me exponentially less rage-y. This is something that a kitty-puppy snuggle cannot solve cause they are fighting like cats and dogs, ironically.

Mouse Trap

Functioning on Epic Fail today. My wireless mouse died and although I use a laptop with a track pad, I am a fan of ergonomics. Nothing scares me more than the thought that I might have to have carpel tunnel surgery like my mom had. She looks like a suicidal teen with the scars they left in her wrists. Not happening.

But it died and I thought I knew what to do because I just ASSUME that I am an independent, functioning adult. This is, apparently, not the case. I went to grab new batteries and I put them in and nothing happened! That is not how this scenario played out in my mind in the moments leading up to the battery replacement. I was going to put the new batteries in and the little power light would come on and I would go back to the pointless chat I was having with my friend from high school.

It took 20 minutes and two broken fingernails for me to figure out that I had put one of the batteries in upside down. Why, Electricity? Why do you do this to me? Why is orientation so important. You are like homophobes. Things always have to be your way and I hate that particular trait in a power-giving entity.

Next time, cut me some slack, dude. I cant ALWAYS know that the raised thingy on the battery goes up against the not raised thingy in the battery holder. I am not an electrician. With no + or - symbols to guide my way, I am but a humble guesser.

The Stupidest Of Questions

Just a note: Do not ever ask anyone if they like music.

Not only does this make you seem like an unimaginative and boring person for not being able to come up with better questions, but it is also a ridiculous question. Have you ever met someone who didnt like music at all?

The answer to that is NO! Of course you havent. Music is a part of being human and even if a person doesnt like a particular TYPE of music, that does not mean they do not like music at all. Dont be an idiot.

Learn to rephrase your questions, dummy. This does not make for good first date conversation and you are discreetly letting her know that you are not someone worth seeing again. Be specific. “Do you like R&B?” is a far better version. Ask her if she likes a style that you enjoy yourself. Establish a common interest.

Just another tip on how to be a better person. I can come up with a million of em. Keep your eyes open for the next installment of Miki’s Tips On How To Not Be A Douche.

giggle snort: A Public Service Announcement

To my dear ex-BIL,

I appreciate you re-blogging and writing a rebuttal. This was a topic intended to incite conversation and debate. To be fair to your feelings, I understand how hard it is to control and express your emotions. It is the same for both genders and something that is a struggle FOREVER unfortunately.

But to be honest, it has been an uphill battle since high school to not find men who are offended by every little thing. Where we as women are raised even still to believe that tradition man-woman relationships exist, I have not been in a single one and I have been dating for over a decade. I get the constant questions as to how I am feeling and what am I thinking and the ENDLESS conversations about the status of the relationship. I might as well be a lesbian, cause it is strangely reminiscent of every complaint made by a woman in Cosmopolitan magazine. “I ask my boyfriend what he is thinking about and he always says ‘Nothing.’ I just want to know how he FEELS”.

As a whole, I agree. It does level out to “maturity vs. emotionality”. And it also ties into that article I posted on FB about the self-absorption of this generation and how this generation’s parents are too indulging. So if we are coddling our sons into being helpless, then we are setting them up for failure. Same for our daughters. Self-sufficiency is key.


I have noticed lately that guys are becoming more and more effeminate as we age. I am not sure if this is an age thing akin to a quarter life crisis, or if this generation of men are simply more sensitive, but it is a fascinating study.

To be honest, it is tiring; always having to work around the…

I think that the issue here is less of a gender role and one of maturity.

To have a woman say “Man up!” is really strange. What, exactly, does a woman know about being a man? Probably about as much as a man knows about being a woman: nothing. Or next to nothing. It all depends on the perception and the level of education. But to say “Man up and quit being a pussy” is really offensive and sexist, I think.

There’s a difference between knowing how to change a light socket cover and how to be a man. If you can’t change a light socket cover you’re an idiot, no matter the gender. If you can’t express your emotions without going into hysterics then you’re not a man. A man can express his emotions quite well, thank you very much; in fact HE SHOULD. The traditional definition of “a man” is the rough, gruff NO EMOTIONS WHATSOEVER John Wayne stereotype that’s stunted the emotional growth of generations of men, and thank god we’re moving away from that. I don’t care if I come off as effeminate, personally; I’ll tell you how I feel and I want to be heard on how I feel. Is that a gender role or a human condition? I believe that wanting to be understood on an emotional level is a human condition, and that for long time men were taught not to because of perception, of the hunter/gatherer tough stereotyping.

“Gentlemen: If she is inconsiderate of your feelings, think of what your grandfather would do (shut up about it and go work in the garage). Also, your indecisiveness is not a virtue. You dont get to break up with her and then come back the next day saying that you need to think about your feelings. Fuck your feeilngs. You are a man. You dont have feelings. You have urges. Go with the urges. Be a real man.”

A real man has feelings. A real man can express them, but it’s hard; you know how hard it is to allow yourself to actually say what you’re feeling AS A MAN knowing that the “idea” of a man is the exact opposite? That’s extraordinarily difficult. That’s allowing vulnerability into the strange tough guy role that men are “supposed” to have.

It seems to me that you’re looking at immaturity as the problem, and classifying it as not being “a man.” This is true; a boy can’t be a man. A boy acts the way you describe, but an asshole also acts in the manner that you prescribe. A true man is able to emote, relate, and speak without allowing his emotions to take control of him. And I’m speaking this AS a man who is constantly challenged to do so, and it’s not easy, but it’s doable.

Posts like these don’t make it any easier.

A Public Service Announcement

I have noticed lately that guys are becoming more and more effeminate as we age. I am not sure if this is an age thing akin to a quarter life crisis, or if this generation of men are simply more sensitive, but it is a fascinating study.

To be honest, it is tiring; always having to work around the potential hissy fit that will come at the drop of a hat because they are so damn TOUCHY about everything. Women, stop coddling your sons. Stop coddling your boyfriends. You are ruining them for other women everywhere who don’t want to have to scramble for the right thing to say when he bursts into tears because he is feeling tired and stressed out.

The role reversal is disturbing. I dont want to be the one that knows more about how a car’s engine works. I dont want to be the one with superior carpentry skills. There is a natural order to life in the “traditional” sense of the word and I think that sometimes it is fine to throw feminism out the window and just tell someone to “MAN UP, STOP BEING A PUSSY!” I want to bake and sew and raise children and by “raise children” I dont mean “teach my boyfriend how to change a light socket cover”.

I blame the women of generations past who complained that their boyfriends “dont understand” and “need to be more sensitive to my feelings” and you raised your sons like you would raise your daughters, so its no wonder that you see so many dudes in girl’s jeans!

Gentlemen: If she is inconsiderate of your feelings, think of what your grandfather would do (shut up about it and go work in the garage). Also, your indecisiveness is not a virtue. You dont get to break up with her and then come back the next day saying that you need to think about your feelings. Fuck your feeilngs. You are a man. You dont have feelings. You have urges. Go with the urges. Be a real man.

Disclaimer: effeminate behavior is forgivable in the following situations:

-If you are gay. Sometimes it just cant be helped and SOMEONE has to play that role so it might as well be you. See John Leguizamo in To Wong Foo.

-If you are in a band. Your overemotional behavior is forgivable if you channel it through song and then play the dick in your day to day life. See Rob Gordon in High Fidelity.

Know your role.

Nick Hornby Is Cooler Than You

"So maybe what I said before, about how listening to too many records messes your life up… maybe there’s something in it after all. David Owen, he’s married right? He’s taken care of all that, and now he’s a big-shot dipolamt. The guy who came into the shop with the suit and car keys, he’s married, too, and now he’s, I don’t know, a businessman. Me, I’m unmarried - at the moment as unmarried as it’s possible to be - and I’m the owner of a failing record shop. It seems to me that if you place music (and books, probably, and films, and plays, and anything that makes you feel) at the center of your being, then you can’t afford to sort out your love life, start to think of it as the finished product. You’ve got to pick at it and unravel it until it all comes apart and you’re compelled to start all over again. Maybe we all live life at too high a pitch, those of us who absorb emotional things all day, and as a consequence we can never feel merely content: we have to be unhappy, or ecstatically, head-over-heels happy, and those states are difficult to achieve within a stable, solid relationship. Maybe Al Green is directly responsible for more than I ever realized.

See, records have helped me to fall in love, no question. I hear something new, with a chord change that melts my guts, and before I know it I’m looking for someone, and before I know it I’ve found her. I fell in love with Rosie the simultaneous orgasm woman after I’d fallen in love with a Cowboy Junkies song: I played it and played it and played it, and it made me dreamy, and I needed someone to dream about, and I found her, and… well there was trouble.”

Dont Laugh At Genetics.

Lets talk for a moment about genetics, cause it has more relevance to your life than whatever it was that you were doing a second ago.

I worry about genetics all the time. To be fair, I worry about a lot of things all the time, including the apocoplypse and the likelihood that I will fall out of a boat and get eaten by a shark despite the fact that I havent stepped foot on a sea vessel of any kind in a minimum of 15 years. Despite my illogical fears, genetics are real and they will come back to karate chop you in the neck when you least expect it. You are just minding your own business, living your life and then BAM! You have colon cancer. That’s how it works. Trust me, I am not remotely anything like a doctor but that’s how it works.

I dont worry about genetics for myself, although I suppose I really should. I worry about genetics for my unborn children. I use this worry as a filter for dating men. You have to scope out what the other person is bringing to the table in more ways than one. It’s not just someone’s emotional background that matters! You have to think of the equation of my soft teeth and his overactive sweat glands equals one offspring that is a virgin until 40. I am thinking of my child’s well-being before there is even a being to be well.

Often times I wont notice someone’s genetic flaws until it is too late. The emotional bonds have been made and then the shirts come off and then you realize they have more back hair than the Cro-Magnon Man in the winter time. There is nothing you can do at that point without looking like a monster, so you power through two years of agonizing day-to-day relationship stuff until you can safely break it off without him thinking it was because of his body hair. This is why early detection of genetic flaws is key.

My suggestion: Thorough background checks, interviews, and body examinations (like they do for the Marines).

Play it safe. Know what you are getting yourself into. For yourself, for your children, for future generations everywhere.

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