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Things I hate PLUS a Poll – Because your vote counts…sorta

I am overwhelmed with hatred today.

That’s not really true.

I am overwhelmed with anxiety over completely irrelevant things, but am masking it as hatred to make me appear more in control of my life. Because somehow irrational hate seems more stable than irrational anxiety. Like Hitler. Only cuter.

This is incredibly offensive. I’m so, so, sorry.

So I’m thinking that airing my grievances to a world of uninterested readers will help validate my instability, allowing me to wallow in narcissism, and force my beliefs upon others. Like Jehovah’s Witness. Only better. Way better.

Here we go.

Reasons Lena is Irrationally Hateful Today

1. People who talk about how sarcastic they are:

It’s like skinny girls calling themselves fat or Republicans calling themselves human. If you have to make a point of telling someone how sarcastic you are, you obviously are not very good at achieving true sarcasm. Unless you are being sarcastic when you say you are sarcastic, in which case, I feel great admiration for you, you clever little minx!!!

…but no one does that.

Ever.

You, faceless woman, do not deserve to exist

2. #Hashtags:

I hate hashtags more than I could ever have anticipated hating anything.

There is nothing more disrespectful to the evolution of human communication than composing a barely intelligible statement about something completely irrelevant to humanity and following it with a hashtag to further explain what you failed to capture to begin with.

***UPDATE:  I just spent the last 15 minutes reading my own tweets and falling in love with myself. Apparently, there is something more disrespectful to the evolution of communication than hashtags–my existence.

3. Black Nail Polish

I don’t understand this trend, nor do I understand trends beyond the point of rejecting them on impulse. But the black nail polish trend makes me uncomfortable. Why? Because it’s ugly and ugly things shouldn’t exist outside of science fiction novels and Jersey Shore cast parties.

So why, sorority girls of the world? Why do you wear black nail polish? You look like you belong on The Hills. And if you aren’t familiar with The Hills, it is that really awesome TV show about why we should bomb California.

JK,  Brian Wilson!

Ok, so I realize these aren’t exactly earth-shattering revelations but I don’t have a lot of intellectual stimulation these days. Therefore, I am conducting the first and probably last, depending on the outcome, Girl with the Blog poll and I would like each and everyone of you to participate.

If you select “Other”, please explain yourself in the comments section. I will be waiting patiently on the edge of my seat.

Thanks!

Love,

The girl who ate 50 calories worth of Ice Breakers in the last 20 seconds

I Hate Twitter and So Should You

I hate Twitter. Whenever I hear someone mention it, it takes physical effort for me to think of something other than voluptuous female rabbits pursuing interracial relations with their male counterparts.

But semantics  aside, I still hate Twitter. It’s clumsy and irritating and encourages people to express every insignificant thought they can muster (not at ALL like this blog).  For this reason, I begrudgingly use Twitter as a blog marketing tool and not much else. I also make a strong effort to follow less people on Twitter than I do in real life as to decrease the amount of inconsequential gobbledygook I expose myself to.

But unfortunately, there’s this  “retweet” business that allows all of the degenerates I follow to share what their loser friends talk about while they sit at home collecting unemployment and playing Halo II in their mother’s basements.

I’m sorry, that was offensive…

D&D, bitches!

Eh hem…point is, my tolerable relationship with Twitter is rapidly growing more intolerable than North Carolina and I don’t know how much longer I can take it. About a month or so ago, #RTComedyBot retweeted one of my blog entries, so naturally I decided to follow him/them/it/genderless rat.

Horrible mistake. Absolutely dreadful.

Now I realize with a name like RTComedyBot, I should have anticipated the nightmare of retweets that were to come. But since I am Twittilliterate  I didn’t put it together.  Here are just a few examples of some of the people out there who think they are funny enough to hash tag lmao.

Ok, well to be fair that last one might actually be funny.

But aside from that slight possibility, this is the quality of the tweets in my tweetfeed. This may sound radical, but I think it’s about time we revoke women’s right to tweet

Love,

The girl who wants you to follow her anywhere but on Twitter (though you can do that too)

“Oh no, that’s not Syphilis! That’s just my Twitter acting up again!”

I acknowledge my Twitter account about as often as I intentionally throw myself down a flight of stairs. It’s like having a hicky above your eyebrow or a non-athletic son.  I’m just embarrassed to have it and I question its purpose on a daily basis.

You may be asking yourself, why am I reading this b***shit? That, I couldn’t tell you. So hopefully you are asking, if you curse the very existence of Twitter, why do you have an account, a-hole?  Take a breath and I’ll fill you in.

A fellow writer/friend/literary confidant we’ll call “M” had been encouraging me to sign up for this “twitter” business for quite awhile. I was apathetic. Uninterested. Dare I say, blasé? I had no interest in being part of some sort of community that involved “following” one another. What is that? That’s like the creepiest Dateline ever. That’s like a Gin Blossoms song. That’s like hearing footsteps creeping up behind you and realizing you forgot your rape whistle. I wasn’t digging it.

She gave up for a short time, only mentioning Twitter here and there in casual conversation:

M: “So, Lena. Are you going to see Bob Dylan this summer?”

L: “I like, don’t know, you know? Like, damn.”

M: “Isn’t he touring?”

L: “Like, I mean. He’s a musician, so like, whatever.”

M: “I’m sure if you followed him on Twitter, you would know.”

L: “Yeah, for real. It’s like, whoa. Right?”

But when she took it upon herself to so brazenly inform me that she had “agent interest” in her novel, based on a contact she had developed through this “twitter” situation, I knew I could no longer be so impassive. I signed up.

Now, nearly two weeks later, I wrestle with my decision. I feel dirty. Like a “sell out,” overpricing screen tees by $30 at a merch table at a Nickelback/Hinder concert. I log into my Facebook account, hoping Zuckerberg won’t sense the seedy nature of my adulterous status updates. Facebook fulfills all of my social networking needs. I know this! And yet…yet…

I need to shape up or ship out. According to twitter, I only have 3 people in the world who care that I have dreams about dismembering school buses. But I know better! After all, I have enough sorry individuals reading this blog to make me feel like at least one non-relative has some interest in my existence. So I need to either:

A. Foster my inner Joaquin Phoenix, and commit myself 100% to something entirely pointless

OR

B. Drain the Twitter abscess, flipping its logo at the world.

I’d prefer to go with option A. So please, readers who share my links on Facebook but don’t ever reveal yourselves driving me insane with curiosities about your identities, follow me!

Stalk me!

Cyber bully me!

I’ll be watching…

Love,

The girl currently known as lena_ziegler