The flu and PMS have combined to produce a very unhappy Becca. Willie can’t come over and comfort me until he finishes work at around nine tonight, so watch for sporadic rambling and ranting ahead.
Life is easier for good looking people, and I can prove it. I’ve used this example many times to demonstrate that fact. Imagine you’re walking down the street and you notice a hot stranger looking at you. You glance over, they smile, and you think, “Ooh, they’re nice.” Now imagine that the stranger who’s looking at you isn’t so attractive (try the word hideous on for size.) You glance over, they smile, and you think, “Fucking pervert.”
Vicki and I were talking the other day about how you often expect someone who’s just gotten out of a long term relationship (regardless of whether they’re the dumper or dumpee) to be saddened or upset, but in reality it’s not always like that. Almost a year ago when I ended a two year relationship, all I felt was relief. I’d stayed in the relationship for a year longer than I had wanted to, simply because I was afraid he would go crazy if I broke up with him. (He did go mental and suicidal for a while, but although I felt guilty, relief was still the prominent emotion.) No more having to put up with constant insinuations that I’m a slut and with being yelled at all the time, it was wonderful. Hah, looking back I can’t believe that I actually tolerated someone telling me that when our sex life slowed down (I didn’t really want to be in bed with someone I was no longer attracted to) they would jack off every night because they couldn’t stop thinking about it and that I should [insert your choice of sexual act here] more often.
I can’t stand women who wear high heels when they obviously can’t walk in them. You know that walk, the one where they can’t straighten their legs or take a step of more than 20cm at a time. I imagine if I was shrunk to a height of about a foot, something walking towards me like that would be really creepy.
Personally, I dislike drinking anything that contains alcohol. In my mid teens my IQ dropped for a couple of years and I feel that I drunk enough then to last me for the next decade. Plus, I have now converted to evil health freakiness. I absolutely despise it when people, upon being told that I don’t ingest alcohol, go, “Oh come on, just one drink doesn’t hurt,” or, “Why on earth not? Everyone drinks.” Whenever that does happen though, I can easily console myself by closing my eyes and imagining that I’m 40 feet tall and carrying a large blowtorch.
I know none of that flowed, I started to try and make the paragraphs lead onto the next, but in the end realised I’m in pain and can’t be screwed.
