Lifedump

I finally got the Captain a new collar. This one's traffic-reflective so he'll be more visible at night. I also got him a proper harness for bike-runs, and am going to attach reflective tape to it as well. Then I'll go to the hardware store this week and buy tiny reflectors and make buttons out of them, which I'll wear on the back of my biking jacket. I already have a flasher on my bike and a blinking pendant shaped like a bone for the Captain, but you can never be too visible.

The bike's brakes were getting loose so I took it to the shop where I got it. The owner came out, looked it over and told me to bring it in anytime for a full going-over with adjustments, because some of the factory settings aren't quite to his liking. He showed me how to tighten the handbrake in the meantime (modern bikes have such weird interfaces! I didn't need a screwdriver) and when I asked how much for the tune-up, he said they wouldn't charge a thing. Fucking amazing. I'll be getting the handlebars adjusted if there's any more wiggle room, and if not, I'll need to buy a longer set so I can sit completely upright to save my neck and wrists. Then I'll buy a rearview mirror and get it installed on the handlebars. It's good times.

Still working on the comic, still dragging ass. I haven't gotten much sleep lately so I'm slow and easily bored. Today was therapy and we had a really long, really thought-provoking session talking about codependency and boundaries. Also about my need to get my life started and gain some independence (especially financially) so I can feel like more of an adult.

It's really weird climbing out of the pit I'm in. And not all that painful, at least not yet. We're doing good work. Starting to establish a rapport. I guess I got lucky on that one--no one I know has ever liked their first therapist, and I adore mine.

I've been listening to the Adam Carolla podcast since he lost his morning show and decided to continue doing the job for free out of his basement. He's such a belligerent dick, but I love him. I miss the old Loveline, before Scrappy Doo (aka Stryker) took over and David Allen Grier was barred from returning as a guest. I don't agree with all of the Loveline advice (they are completely ignorant and judgmental about gender dysphoria, for example) but most of the time it's dead-on. I've been listening to the archive of 2004 for the past month or so while I play One Piece and collect my non-thinks.

Spring is coming. I need to get out more, and take a bunch of photos with this awesome camera before everything turns soggy and brown.

Pictures of snowman sex acts to follow.

Creepy Love, a Chick Flick Rant

Long-time readers can probably skip this, since I'm not saying much that I haven't already said before.

OH NO LUKA BEING REPETITIVE, IT IS RAGNAROK FOR SURE.

So I was bored and followed a bunch of random links this morning. I ended up reading this website all about psycho control freak ninja turtles manipulators and the tools they use to control their mates. Nothing too new, as I have some experience with "If you don't love me I'll kill myself"-type kookery.

However, this site had this neat little checklist of telltale creepy fuck-type behavior, and as I read them over, I got to thinking about chick flick plots, and how often the fairytale romances they portray as desirable and rewarding actually fit the pattern of an unhealthy and sometimes abusive relationship. I call this phenomenon 'Creepy Love.'

Anyone who's read my blog for a while knows that romantic movies and songs tend to cause me to vent unstoppable sprays of irrational fury across the internet. Creepy Love is basically inescapable in this country unless you prefer to live in a dugout in the woods and mail bombs to record execs. Yes, you'd think something so ubiquitous would stop bugging me by some point--but if that line of reasoning worked, lactose intolerance (and the certain types of unstoppable spraying for which it can be responsible) shouldn't happen either. STOP POOPING, YOU!

I think what really fucks me up is knowing that people take behavioral cues from their culture, even their shitty pop culture, and then wonder why constantly going for the hurt puppy boyfriend who just needs love to fix him doesn't end in flowers and ice cream cones.

I think one of the best examples of a chick flick with a disturbing twist on reality is the first 'Bridget Jones' film. I should have known better than to sink my eyeballs into this bucket of dogshit, but a friend told me I was being unfair by never giving chick flicks a fair chance, and I felt her criticism had merit. Also, at the time I found Renee Zellweger unbelievably hot. So I thought, why not?

So I watched it, and I have been farting blood and crying so many tears ever since.

You want Creepy Love? Check out this movie's squicky romantic climax:

"O hey Pookie, while you were in the shower I snooped in your bedroom til I found your diary. In completely disregard for your privacy, I cracked that sucker open and found out that you secretly thought I was kind of a jerk when we first met.

So now I'm going to storm out the door and leave the diary open on the bed so you'll see it when you get out of the shower, and know how betrayed I feel that you didn't always think I was the greatest guy in the universe.

But don't worry, darling--when you come running out of your apartment in your underwear and chase me down in the snow, you'll find that despite the implied threat of my action, I'm not actually leaving you. I'm just going to a stationery story to buy you a new diary, which I will give to you with the order that you'll write GOOD things about me in it.

Aw, you're apologizing for almost driving me away with your thoughtlessness! That is so sweet! So, hon, would you like one with a cute little lock on it? Then you can give me the extra key and I can check in from time to time and make sure you're not saying anything I don't like."

Audience: AWWWW! ^_______^ HE LOVES HER SO MUCH!
Me: *FART*

And then there's TV, most notably Lost. I could go on for hours about what a disgusting creep the writers' favorite character Jack is. Oh wait, I already have! (Summary: he screams at girls, pushes girls around, stalks girls and is generally a horrible piece of shit, but the writers talk about how he's a nice guy but emotionally closed off to a fault. CLASSIC.) You get the idea.

I find the idea that millions of women and girls are getting their Creepy Love programming reinforced by movies like this unbelievably skeezy and sad. It's even worse that they keep going back for more.

I wish I could believe people don't really believe the kind of shit they watch in movies, but I've heard 16 year old girls in full flow wailing about how they'd never find true love because they weren't paired off yet.

You can't blame ridiculous adolescent hormonal shit on the movies, though I do think there is a major influence on the way it manifests. Watching that junk and hearing your friends talk about how romantic it is probably isn't doing anyone any good either way.

I imagine it's kind of a cycle--the Creepy Love movies fuel the ardor of the adolescent viewers, who demand more shitty films just like it, which then go on to spread the dysfunction even further.

And of course the people who make the shitty movies and love songs don't really care about whether they're helping to reinforce the Creepy Love phenomenon, because they just want the money. There is only one solution:

STOP WATCHING CHICK FLICKS LEST YOUR TEEN DAUGHTERS BECOME PREGNANT BY BIGFOOT.