manic pixie dream bitch

dearcoketalk:

In reference to your recent ‘advice’ (If that’s what you’d want to call it), I’d just like to say that nobody can really have a definite answer to the big God-existence-question. Not me, not you, not anybody. It’s not your place to tell somebody they’re wrong when they have just about as much credibility as the next person’s belief on the supernatural and spiritual. That’s all. I’m not offended or trying to be offensive, I’m simply stating that you’re being ignorant. : )

Ignorant? You don’t know the meaning of the word.

For instance, it’s ignorant to suggest that everyone’s supernatural and spiritual beliefs deserve some measure of credibility. Once you suspend rational thought in favor of superstitious nonsense, you give up your credibility.

It’s also ignorant to suggest that not having the answers to life’s mysteries is somehow a defense for making them up. It may never be within the scope of the human experience to comprehend the fundamental nature of the universe, but that’s no excuse for organized religion to pretend it has a fucking clue.

Finally, it’s ignorant to suggest that it’s not my place to tell people they’re wrong. You know what I do here, bitch. This is my advice column. It’s literally my place to tell people they’re wrong.

Speaking of which, it’s time for your spanking. Listen up, kiddo, because you’re angry in all the wrong places. There aren’t enough smiley face emoticons in the world to hide the fact that you are a seething, passive-aggressive little cunt just like your mom.

If you want to live a happier life, you really need to let some of that poison out of your heart. I know you’re far too repressed to write actual hate mail, but for your own sake you might want to try and send me some.

Whatever it takes not to waste one more second of your life wagging your finger in other people’s faces.

Trust me, it’s the one thing about you that your friends can’t stand.

Fuck, am I glamorous when I come home at night.

 sunshadowpoet replied to your post:The thing about soulless electronics stores selling CDs True, but I still prefer the social interaction. My alone time with the music comes later.

Oh, I like the social interaction too. I would’ve liked nothing more than the cashier to tell me just how odd these purchases I just made are. Because I want to talk back to record store guys. I used to not know how to do that (attributing them an authority they didn’t actually have) but now I do and I don’t have any opportunities to do so. 

 dodgethewater replied to your photo: Quick, somebody give me a cross-chain and… When he was a kid, my dad delivered the newspaper to the Mafia boss of the Northeast. His daughter-in-law kept a jaguar in the garage… not a car… the animal. Organized crime is… interesting.

A jaguar? How cool is that? I love mafia stories (but only the clichéd ones). I blame my mother: She used to joke that my father was a mafia boss in disguise and that whenever he put on his leather jacket he’d meet other mafia guys. It made even more sense because he spoke a language I didn’t understand. To this day, I sometimes walk home with him and he points at a restaurant or a hair dresser and says that they’re run by the Russian mob and…. huh.

The people working there don’t care about music and when the cashier rings up your purchases, a Scott Walker CD, a Sigur Rós CD and a Pet Shop Boys CD, she just rings them up and wishes you a nice day. She doesn’t give you a judgy stare or raises her eyebrows or says “Well, this is an odd combination.” She doesn’t do that. And I don’t like that.

Usually (and also this time) it’s me doing most of the stuff because I’m older and my sister is insanely busy at the moment. Every time my parents go on a vacation something happens that I can’t handle alone. Last year there was a break-in and the cleaning lady called me up at 6 a.m. to get there and I had to deal with the police and the insurance. Two years ago there was a health inspection and I didn’t know what to show the inspector, so I showed him everything (which I didn’t have to, it turned out).

This year, I get called by a guy asking to shoot a TV spot in our café and I have no directions on how to proceed on this matter. I told him I’d call my father and for him to give me all the information I needed. He finally told me what they were shooting a commercial for (a mobile phone provider, nothing too nasty.), when they’d shoot, how long they’d shoot, if we needed to close and what they’d pay us.

I’m calling my father later but I do think it’s a bit of a rip-off. He told me what his location-budget was and that doesn’t even compensate the business we’d make on that day and I don’t consider the exposure of the café on national TV to be that much of an added value.

I did enjoy acting all profesh on the phone, though

I remember I wanted to be a book-keeper because I thought I could read books all day.

Guess who thought they had Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets at home and wanted to read it but then discovered she only had the German copy and that she’s not 12 anymore and thus wants the original. Guess who had the same thought when she was 14 and bought the English version of Chamber of Secrets but borrowed it to someone in the past nine years and now has no idea where the book is?

Everything sucks forever.

• U1
• U2
• U3
• U4
• U6

Subway lines Vienna currently doesn’t have

• U5

Subway lines whose construction would do unspeakable things to the Viennese psyche (because we don’t like it when things make sense)

• U5

Subway lines politicians talk about being built because there’s an election coming up

• U5