Couples gushing about each other on their Facebook walls should be illegal. Like Time Warner Cable or Comcast needs to come to their door, find their router and smash it into a million pieces while screaming, “GO TO YOUR ROOM AND DON’T COME OUT UNTIL YOU’VE REALIZED THE ERROR OF YOUR WAYS!”
Not only were the external stimuli I was exposed to promoting an “ideal” body image, they were also promoting a sense that unless I fit that particular ideal, I should be morbidly dissatisfied. And I was; for no particular reason other than I felt some sort of social pressure to find ways to hate myself, which, needless to say, is absolutely ridiculous.
If a celebrity’s Twitter is entertaining enough, it can make them relevant again. It’s possibly one of the most powerful tools in the industry today. If you’re not starring in any noteworthy movies and your agent is screening your calls, just make Twitter your new job.
Screw you, HBC, for making me feel that way. Screw you for making me irrational, hairless, enraged and depressed. Screw you for making me bleed like a stuck pig and curl into a fetal position from such exquisite pain. Screw you for messing with my beautiful skin.
Hearing snippets of anecdotes about beer-bonging jungle juice or sleeping with two girls in the same night, one unbeknown to the other, confirmed to me that the American Pie-style high school experience did, in fact, exist – just not for me or anyone I knew. There was fun to be had here, I just wasn’t invited to it.
I happened upon Requiem for a Dream at the local video store, and I’m pretty sure I was filled with tears by the end. It was so damn sad the way heroin fucked up all the characters lives, and the editing seemed so awesome. The score by the Kronos Quartet really tugged my heart strings. But now, looking back, what an overwrought, over-indulgent, over-stylized piece of shit that movie is.
I wasn’t born rich or powerful enough to be initiated into the world of networking from an early age, so I always misunderstood it. When I dropped out of high school and started getting my own jobs, I figured out quickly how to develop a good rapport with bosses and customers.
I think the moment you realize how awful her songwriting is is the moment you are officially no longer a teenager. Leaving the Church of Jenny Lewis is an eye-opening experience and a true marker of adulthood.