Welcome to global warming. My corpse feet are back. The furnace has been running non-stop since I got home, it just keeps getting colder. (my apologies to those of you who are in states colder than Pennsylvania at this time, I know it’s much more brutal in many other states) It’s sad that I am enjoying the ridiculous heat from the laptop heating my blood as it circulates through my body. I will at some point wake Andy up from his roost on the third floor and make him come down before I find him frozen tomorrow or suffering from hypothermia.
It’s Monday mania, and I’m pulling out my soapbox. I’ve got some bones I’m chewing on, so here we go.
Women! Stop calling it your “down there” or “you know”. It’s a vagina. V.A.G.I.N.A. There’s no shame in it. You sound like an 8 year old when you call it your “down there” or “down below”. Now, there’s nothing wrong with calling your vagina by an endearing name when you having a chit chat with the girls, but here’s the deal, if you are too timid to say vagina in mixed company then you aren’t mature enough to have sex. I know I have said this before, but I’ll say it again. If I see one more damn commercial encouraging me to act like my vagina is an unspeakable abyss and to make it less embarrassing to me and the general public, I am gonna fling my Sleep Sheep right at the TV and/or laptop.
Next, some lunatic in Utah is on hunger strike because he disapproves of same sex marriage. I disapprove of stupid people marrying and then going on Jerry Springer. I disapprove of people getting married because they don’t like themselves and get married to not feel alone. If it were up to me there’d be an extensive psychological test before anyone got married, and both partners would have to have comparable passing scores to wed. I also think there should be a breeding license for humans However, I don’t live with the people other people marry, so it’s not my fucking business. It doesn’t affect me (well it does, but only during business hours) I just don’t get it. You do understand if you starve yourself, that just means one less person opposing same sex marriage? It’s really not a negative for the cause. People aren’t going to stop marrying because you won’t eat a Big Mac. But okay, go ahead. Eat nothing. Let us know how that works out for you. All it does is give the media an opportunity to talk about something other than real news.
Another thing: The Bachelor. WHAT THE HELL? WHY IS THIS STILL A TV SHOW? Really? An attractive successful man is so fucking desperate that he needs a TV show to find a partner? Ladies, think about this for a minute. If he can’t find a life-mate in the real world, don’t you think there might be something wrong with him, you know, personality wise? And the women on the show, again, why are they all desperate enough to be showing their most unattractive qualities of their personalities in the public forum? Why do we care? It’s like watching fucking gladiators in the forum! Thumbs up/thumbs down for the women and then we discharge them publicly when they are unsuccessful. Wow. So you show your worst qualities on TV, you act like this is your only chance at successful mating and then you are dismissed as unacceptable. Wow. All for 15 minutes of fame. AND I for one, am sick of seeing Juan Pablo all over social media. It’s really very sad that he is displayed as some sort of love puppet (love puppet – copyright Diane Pietkiewicz 2014) that fetches roses with is teeth. Again, another example of the fall of western civilization. There’s more to a relationship than physical attraction and romantic gestures – there’s the whole getting to know another person on an intimate and private level, the learning their endearing quirks, the being there in good times and bad, and dare I even say it? Intellectual compatibility. How sad our culture had sunk to this. That said, I do love Real Housewives of Beverly Hills, as I have admitted previously. But they don’t pretend to be anything more than gorgeous, rich catty women. By the way, Vikings returns for second season in February. It’s a damn good show, lots of blood and gore. No roses.
Finally, my major pet peeve of the day. Stop asking me to share you “get a hundred likes” or “share this and god will grant you a favor” posts on social media. If god wants to communicate with me, he can send me a burning bush or part the Schuylkill river. Or send me a winning lottery ticket. I’d sure pay attention to a winning lottery ticket. I could go on and on about this, but really, people are still gonna do it. I just had to get that off my chest. I just wish it would be more intellectually satisfying. Like puns. Or satire. AND FOR DOG’S SAKE! If you are going to quote a song, or an author, or a movie – give them credit. PLEASE. And quote them correctly…that’s what google is for. AND ANOTHER THING! I am sick of vague passive aggressive relationship status. If you can’t speak directly to each other, break the fuck up. It’s like writing notes in 3rd grade. Please I beg you.
Wait, one more: Dear FOX news nut jobs: freakish cold does not discredit global warming. It supports it. Extreme variances in weather are examples of global warming. I am a little cranky this evening. Extreme cold makes me a bit edgy. I want to round all you idiots up and give you lobotomies. That is all.
The other Diane may or may not return tomorrow, with her fluffy bunnies, and hedgehogs, and rainbows. I think it’s time for a caramelvodkacocoa to settle down this evening. Stay warm frostyfriends, til I return. Or spring. Whichever happens first.
Also, thanks to Lou Reed for tonight’s title. Credit where credit’s due.