It’s funny how cramps and all the fun things that accompany them completely eradicate my intellectual curiosity in most things.
Stuff I Currently Do Not Care About:
Pluto Not Being A Planet. If Pluto had feelings, I might care. If I had plans to visit, I might care. The educational system in the United States is already piss-poor, so I’m not even concerned about the confusion certain six-year-olds taking Earth Science (or whatever they call the course we all took when we were in first grade that taught us about the solar system) might feel. As far as I’m concerned, they don’t have to memorize 56 planets, so they should be grateful.
The War In Iraq. At first I cared a lot. I cared mostly that it was a war directed at the wrong country for the wrong reasons and that a lot of people were dying. Then I realized that the United States has to have a pissing match with some godforsaken scrap of real estate every five years or so, for whatever reason (probably to continue to have an excuse to spend billions of dollars on the military and related industries), and it’s [name your favourite godforsaken clump of land that’s grossly outmatched by US firepower but manages to avoid being obliterated for months if not years on end] all over again. We never learn. We’re bullies. Wait…shit. I do care. Never mind.
Cute Shoes. I ache. I don’t care if they are shiny, pointy, high-heeled, designer, on sale, special, glow-in-the-dark, magical dancing shoes. Expecially if they are faerie-tale-style Deadly Dancing Shoes. Those are bad. I’m wearing fluffy bedroom slippers right now.
Sports. Golf? Football? Tennis? I’m so fucking bored. Keep sports on the sports channels. Channel 41, I am looking at you. Please also give up your fascination with Adam Sandler movies and Rob Schneider movies and Jim Carrey movies and “that unfunny guy who was in Zoolander” movies. I don’t care. One unfunny childish voice or unfunny fart joke or unfunny grimace and tic and I’m watching CNN instead. I’m warning you. Fuck your ratings.
People Pretending To Be Girls Online Who Are Not, In Actuality, Girls. People still talk on IRC? Are you kidding me? That’s so 1993. But we knew how to spell back then. People who are so socially backward that they have to resort to typing dirty words to strangers to get a thrill? Try a real date. They are fun.
The Ever-Declining Quality Of The Anita Black, Vampire Hunter Series. It all went downhill during “The Killing Dance”. Will it ever not suck again? I don’t know. I stopped buying the damn things. They turned into bad fan fiction. One might argue that it wasn’t high art to begin with. I’d agree. But there’s good, entertaining stupid and bad, hack-like stupid. I can’t believe people are still talking about it. Has my Facebook news feed gone back in time? Next up: “POGS–Yea or Nay?”, “So I Herd Vanilla Ice Ripped Off Queen And David Bowie,” “DEWEY DEFEATS TRUMAN? LOLOLOLOL,” and “Jimmy Hoffa Reported Missing.”
Republicans Being Boobs. This is news? To anyone? What rock have you been living under?
Gas Prices. They are high. It sucks. Maybe you should not have purchased that goddamned SUV, then, right? Ever hear of carpooling? Shut up.
Digger The Dermatophyte Attacking My Toenails. I use soap. My toenails are safe.
A Short List Of Things I Do Care About:
Meerkats. They are nifty.
Ice Cream. I care that it is cold and sweet and makes my stomach feel good. I care a lot that I am almost out of it. Ice cream, don’t leave me! *sobs*
Advil. I love thee, pain killer. I love your little orange roundness. I love you most when you actually work and I don’t hurt. Not loving you enough at the moment. Get cracking.
The Cool Side Of The Pillow. I am currently sweaty. Ten minutes ago I was shivering. I fucking hate fucking cramps.
Murphy. He’s a sweet fuzzy boy. Somehow he knows I feel bad. Pets are good like that.
Sleep. Time to get some of that. Yeah, buddy. Wish me luck. I was awakened rudely at 4 AM with Cramps. I’m SO firing Cramps, and without severance pay or two weeks’ notice. Cramps, you suck.