Spike's Bitches 34: They're All Slime and Antlers
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risque (and frisque), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
I said that in matters of cookies I was very equal opportunity, and swung both ways.
One morning I was making my oatmeal (note to Hec: OATMEAL AUDIT!) in the kitchen at work, and another co-worker came in and noticed the cookies on the table. She said "You're being so good, eating oatmeal, when there are cookies right here! I have to have a cookie!"
I said, "Oh, please. I can have oatmeal AND a cookie. When it comes to breakfast, I'm polyamorous."
She said, " 'Polyamorous'....that's a neat word! Does it mean what I think it does? I think I'm going to start using it!"
And I just nodded and smiled, thinking, even if a person isn't poly, wouldn't they be familiar with the word itself? But apparently not.
I have to call a nasty collection agency in a minute, and I still haven't decided what I'm going to tell them. It's a dialectic. I'm either going to say, "Go fuck yourself," or, "Ok. This is what I'm willing to do."
even if a person isn't poly, wouldn't they be familiar with the word itself?
Though the word makes sense in an English-y sense, I had never seen it used until my first visit to the Recs of the same name.
I wasn't. The internets, she has been an education in many ways, great and small.
Apparently our brains are hardwired for magical thinking.
I tend to be aware when my brain does any such magical thinking, and then I discount the magical thinking.
That's probably why I'm going to hell.
I'm glad they touched on OCD near the end, because it was on my mind throughout the article. Hey! Maybe I made that paragraph appear.
I seriously wondered about whether the following is backed up by sociological research, or is an assumption, though:
“The point at which the culture withdraws support for belief in Santa and the Tooth Fairy is about the same time it introduces children to prayer,” said Jacqueline Woolley, a professor of psychology at the University of Texas.
I just wonder, because the people I know who do pray, typically teach their children to pray from very early on -- like starting at toddlerhood.
I just wonder, because the people I know who do pray, typically teach their children to pray from very early on -- like starting at toddlerhood.
Yeah, I was taught to pray at a very early age.
I remember when I was about kindergarten age praying to God that He would take me up to heaven in the Rapture so I wouldn't have to die.
I thought about death a fair amount even in toddlerhood. Is that normal?
I thought about death a fair amount even in toddlerhood. Is that normal?
I was fairly aware of death at that age. I remember that, for a while, I would pretend to talk to the ghost of JFK, and I asked him things like what it felt like to be shot, and if he still loved his family, and if he knew how to stop bombs. (I was about two at the time, I think.)
I wondered about that too, Cindy. I'd like to see something to back that up, because in my experience those who believe in any faith teach it to their children from birth (thus leading to the conversation about why God is real and Santa isn't. Or maybe that was just me).
Aimee, I'm very sorry about your watch, and, ow. I'm going to have that image in my poor brain all day.
I. Want a Massage. Also, I want Hazard Pay for having to be my emotionally fragile sister's therapist. Especially when she calls me AT WORK to calm her down. I know she's in a really tough place right now, what with our mom and her ex-husband the Bastard and his Bastardly family, and I love and appreciate and want to help her as much as I can from four states away. But could she maybe not do this to me at work? Is that too much to ask? Am I selfish for not wanting my focus at work disrupted by stuff that nearly puts me in tears? I just got my workload almost doubled, I have panic attacks myself, I have problems and shit going on too, but she never listens to me for more than a minute. But never mind, I actually have a therapist! The professional kind, that she refuses to get "because she doesn't need it and besides, she has me". I can always calm her down, but then it's me that's upset. I wish this awful situation would just resolve itself somehow.
