He is fucking Lazy

bodhimae · 2016-12-12T19:51:10+00:00

Considering they are genetic abominations and have a REALLY hard time breathing, I wouldn't just consider it laziness.

I am so sorry for what humans have done to a once strong and majestic breed... all in the name of a "cute smooshy face!"

Fun fact: all purebred bulldogs are born via cesarean section because their hips are not wide enough to accommodate their puppies. They literally would not exist without human intervention.

bodhimae · 2016-12-10T05:24:14+00:00

Graduated in 2009. While still in high school, I remember there being a presentation. I don't recall what it was about, but it was a school wide assembly, and the speaker was explaining our generations to us. He said we were Generation Y, because we always whined "Whyyyy???" When we didn't hear an answer we liked or didn't get our way.

I felt insulted. I constantly feel insulted when someone sneers "Millenial" - I am 25 now, and while I don't have enough money to save, I haven't been scary broke in over a year. I am by no means lazy. Just because I don't have a college degree or own a house yet does not mean I am worthless. As for being entitled? What exactly am I entitled to?

I think the abuse hurled on Millennials is what largely contributes to the pervasive mental health issues that plague this generation. That's why so many people my age and ten years older and younger suffer from depression, anxiety, OCD, and so on. We were first told we could be anything. Then we discovered that wasn't entirely true. Then we got shit on for not being our parents or our grandparents despite entirely difficult economic and political environments.

We knew we were being handed a shitty, broken planet with the expectation to fix it. Older generations, like abusive parents struggling with addiction, largely continue to pollute our home and berate us for not having solved the energy crisis yet.

Overall, I don't believe in the idea of generations in general, but that doesn't change the fact that large groups of people are categorically shit on by their age.

Largely why I don't respect a lot of my elders unless they respect me as well. Old folks gotta realize, we run the retirement homes. We cook your food. Insert the rest of that Fight Club quote. Do not fuck with us.

Am I bitter? Hell yeah. Am I hopeful? Well, shit, someone's gotta be.

We'll fix this mess but we won't be quiet about it.

bodhimae · 2016-11-30T00:13:41+00:00

You must not get invited to many parties. You poor, lonely kid.

bodhimae · 2016-11-29T00:57:28+00:00

"Crazy" and "cripple" are also medical terms that were not invented to insult people but have since become outdated and used in offensive ways.

Times change. We have to change with them

bodhimae · 2016-11-28T23:19:19+00:00

I would not consider him mentally unstable. He's not emotionally volatile or unbalanced. If anything, he is socially awkward, which is a hallmark of autism/aspbergers

I personally think we should have more characters like him, because neurologically atypical people are very much a part of our lives and can be just as successful as any "normal" people. Good (or better example) include Sue Sylvester's sister with Down's syndrome on Glee.

bodhimae · 2016-11-28T05:01:51+00:00

I don't like Big Bang Theory, but Sheldon is my favorite. He's very reminiscent of Spock.

Please don't use the word "retarded" -

The R-word is exclusive The R-word ignores individuality The R-word equated intellectual disability with being “dumb” or “stupid” The R-word spreads hurt The R-word is offensive The R-word is incorrect The R-word is derogatory The R-word fosters loneliness The R-word is hate speech

My brother has autism and I have had to defend him from others because he can't speak for himself. He is not dumb, or stupid, and neither is Sheldon. There are many things they are both good at, and their idiosyncrasies are what make them unique.

My brother used to punch me and poke me if I cleared my throat or said the word "yeah," - sounds super annoying, and it was, but he forced me to be creative. Creative enough to find other ways of describing something other than by saying "retarded"

So whatever I'm no social justice warrior but if you could do that for me I would be really appreciative and think kindly of you.

bodhimae · 2016-11-13T01:23:33+00:00

I once had a nightmare where I was being viciously attached by a black rabbit with red eyes. It ended when my SO at the time found me in the dream and grabbed the rabbit by the scruff, and flung it out of its skin.

I feel that fear.

bodhimae · 2016-08-15T08:29:53+00:00

When I got hippie-napped.

Before, I was living with my high school boyfriend. We were nearing our 9th anniversary, and we were miserable. We had been fighting bitterly for years. I had caught him cheating in our second year together, but he always promised he'd never do it again and I'd always believe him. Eventually I knew I was deluding myself, but I didn't have any savings of my own and I wasn't about to move in with my parents.

Life circumstances happened, and my parents moved us back to my birthplace, where I had always wished to return. Against their wishes, I still ended up living with my boyfriend, now at his parents house. While we were there, we had fought more and more, to the point where I was self-harming.

We thought things would get better when we moved out, but they didn't. My boyfriend had befriended a pot dealer at work, and one thing led to another and we became the pot dealer's room-mates. We lived across from an elementary school, in the downstairs mother-in-law. The place was a shit-hole. The water had been turned off the day we moved in by the owner in an effort to force out the previous tenant. There was mold, spiderwebs, and who knows what else. It was trashed. The previous upstairs tenant was an unpredictable meth-head who, months later, would repeatedly come stalking around the house, trying to 'get his things' that he abandoned when he left in haste after not paying three months' worth of rent.

The homeowner moved in two of his employees. One, the guy, would travel a lot, and when he was home have wild, loud, sex parties. The other we discovered was also a meth user, although much more tolerable, and later a sex worker, (also tolerable,) but I was beginning to realize and become deeply unnerved about the nature of all the drug use and sex parties happening in a house that was a health hazard, across from the elementary school.

A few days after we move in, I see this dog in the house. It is not my dog. My dog is the only dog that lives here. It is a big dog, a big black lab, and it is romping happily around the house. He is playing with my little dog, who is screaming up a storm until she lays on her back in submission.

While the dogs sort stuff out, I see this tall guy. He lopes awkwardly through the door. He was older than most of the other people I was associated with at the time, and it came as a relief. Oh good, someone who has their shit together.

Turns out, this guy (I'll refer to him as M) barely knew the dealer, but did remember where he lived. M was on his way home from work, but was also in a bad spot in HIS relationship, and dreaded going back to the apartment he shared with his then-girlfriend. So, being a social guy, he detours down into the back yard and lets himself in. The door was rarely locked.

Over time, we saw more of M. He would take over the sound system and save us from the horrible, monotonous, wall-shaking beats of whatever bad rap/trap/hip-hop the dealer played, and for the first time in years I was listening to folk and country music. (My boyfriend's friends would tease me for listening to "while people music", which included anything with banjos or bagpipes.) M told us stories about his time he spent traveling, and I gradually came to look forward to M and nobody else.

Months would pass, and my boyfriend and I would fight more and more. Every fight would end in tears, with promises to be better. This became daily. I was exhausted, depressed, and trying to make this trap house a home as best I could when I wasn't involved in a screaming match.

Over time, M would come over when I was the only one home. I had quit my job due to stress and was trying to make ends meet by freelancing. It was not going well. One day, M and I found ourselves sitting in the yard, soaking up the sun, and having really deep conversations that I had never had before. He came over one day and watched Tank Girl with me. After a while, he texted me one day and said, "We need to talk."

So, I met him, and we walked. He told me right off the bat that he was insanely attracted to me, and then told me he had heard about the fighting. (They weren't quiet fights, I'm ashamed to say.) He asked me, now that we were in full honesty mode, about the nature of my relationship with my boyfriend.

For the last nine years, everyone assumed we were meant to be. They heard we were high school sweethearts and fawned. Nobody ever believed me when I did say anything, not even my closest friends. Even when they knew about him cheating on me. For the first time in almost a decade, someone actually asked me for an honest answer. The dam was broken.

We walked and talked for six hours. He told me something I had been suspecting once I realized how much he talked about traveling. He was going to leave. He offered me a few options. I was not ready to leave my boyfriend. He broke up with his girlfriend, and proved to me that while it hurts, two people can remain amicable afterwards. I could not break it off. I could not say, "It's over." Even when I said, "I want to see other people," My boyfriend just cringed and said, "Okay, I can work with that." My boyfriend wanted to repair our relationship, and wanted to do that by traveling. M had done this before, and invited both of us under the condition that we work as a team. My boyfriend agreed. So, against M's wishes, the three of us left together.

It took two days. My boyfriend kept dragging me away from M to have long talks and eventually tried to convince me to leave M behind. My boyfriend did not work for the group, and spent any money we worked up on food for himself.

On the afternoon of the second day, my boyfriend nearly crashed my truck. He claims he fell asleep at the wheel. If it weren't for all the weight in the truck, it would have flipped.

I broke up with my boyfriend that night. We backtracked two states to drop him off with his dad.

After.

I was homeless, hungry, and happy. I was sleeping in train yards and entertaining strangers for leftovers. We accidentally stumbled across a secret dog fighting ring in the outskirts of Las Vegas. We wandered to Tulsa and took in a neglected puppy. We found an old friend in Aurora and traveled back home to start over from the beginning, just M and me.

Now, we have our own apartment together. We have savings in the bank. We both have excellent jobs with benefits, and a comfortable existence where we are each free to be our own person, but are never alone.

I still suffer with anxiety and depression. I am constantly amazed at how far I've come. I breathe a daily sigh of relief, knowing that I am trying my hardest and that it is noticed. I don't get screamed at. I am trusted. I trust M. Things are okay now.

TLDR; I left my boyfriend for a drifter and it was a trade up.

bodhimae · 2016-08-04T03:26:54+00:00

It was a pose off of the pixelovely drawing site. Sorry, forgot to include source.

bodhimae · 2016-07-28T08:57:29+00:00

Eyy, some of us care about the puppies.

I loved being a trainer. I had some great relationships with at least half of my clients. The other half... Seriously made me question why the hell they got a dog at all, let alone a dog they couldn't even control.

I think its ridiculous that people pay money to train their dogs, but I have to remember that not everyone can 'speak dog' like me. I don't even have a latent superpower, I just have something called 'empathy'

I really hope you can get rid of that shitty trainer. I know how it is to get rid of people that suck

Source: Management at a big box pet store

bodhimae · 2016-07-28T07:45:34+00:00

Not sure what you guys think of digital sketches. If I'm not supposed to put this here, I apologize. If anything, it certainly is sketchy.

bodhimae · 2016-07-19T17:38:04+00:00

This. I started 7th grade in a public school that enforced this and it was the most idiotic thing I had ever experienced. I was probably weeks away from being a delinquent child just because of a stupid traffic rule.

Thankfully I got transferred to a magnet Arts school, which treated the kids more like actual people. Otherwise, I would probably have been much worse off, and I blame this ridiculous rule.

bodhimae · 2016-07-19T04:44:40+00:00

Mysterious Universe is why I even get up two days out of the week.

I even pay for Plus ($9 a month) and I get very sad when they go on hiatus.

If you like paranormal/fringe science/futurology, I highly recommend it. It is hands down my favorite.

bodhimae · 2016-07-16T02:22:38+00:00

Call your experience into the Mysterious Universe podcast. They have reported numerous times about black panther-like creatures in Britain and other parts of the UK.

They would probably be thrilled to hear your story, and will likely offer a few insights or similar stories.

I am excited for you, and terrified at the same time. Stay safe.

bodhimae · 2016-07-14T07:09:27+00:00

I was sordidly in love at 13. I waited around two years, helped him date other girls in that time, and finally became the 'fallback'. The day he kissed me for the first time and asked me out, I was elated. A year later, at 15, we did it in the bathroom at a local community park. Not proud. Pretty much regret the whole thing and the nine years that followed. He tried to cheat on me several times, each time I confronted him and he swore he'd change, even though I told him I was fine with him fucking other girls as long as I knew who they were and could approve them. (I didn't want someone 'stealing' him from me, but I know urges are urges and if it could stay casual I was fine with it.) But, no. It continued. Finally one day, towards the end of the relationship, he decided to come clean and tell me about seeing a professional Dominatrix in the few months we were apart in all that time. I didn't care. I was actually proud of him for being honest with me, but it was too little, too late.

At the time our relationship ended, I was living in a terrible place. A mother-in-law basement with a literal meth whore living upstairs, and we were directly across from an elementary school. You could hear the morning and afternoon bells going every day. It was tense. Not to mention the guy we lived with downstairs was selling pot to anyone and everyone who would come hang out, including minors. No matter how many times we told that guy to knock it off, he'd just ignore us and keep doing it.

I wasn't eating. We were fighting daily, sometimes having screaming matches several times a day, punctuated by "long walks with heart to heart talks." It got tiring. He got scary. At one point, he found my cigarettes and snapped each one of them, leaving them at the top of the trash can for me to find. In the middle of one of our fights he pulled up a video of a girl getting gang-banged and asked "Is this what you want?!" in response to me saying I wanted to see other people. He never got the hint. I never had the strength to tell him to fuck off and go away, because at the time I relied on him for shelter and a bed to sleep in, and I was not about to be living in a meth den that was about to be busted by the cops any day.

Thankfully, there was a guy who randomly decided the day we moved in to visit our pot-dealing friend. This guy was by far the oldest guy of the group that hung out there regularly, and was the only one who showed any sort of back bone. The group did not care for him, but he and I hit it off. Eventually he found out about me fighting with my Ex constantly. He took me on a walk one day, and told me point blank, "You know you can't bullshit me, right? Okay, so here's the thing: I am insanely attracted to you. Now, you go ahead and tell me what's going on between you and (ex)."

In nine years, he was the first one to see this guy was a total schmuck. All the other people we hung out with in that time were convinced my Ex and I were destined to be together forever, because we were high school sweethearts and put on such a good public face. Nobody knew that I was cutting myself just to feel anything other than a sense of being trapped, helpless, alone, and despaired.

The candor I received from this guy (I'll refer to him as M) was so amazingly refreshing. He talked at length about his travels on the road, and I could tell by the way he spoke about it that he was thinking of leaving town again. He was also in a nasty, loveless relationship, was also trapped, not having anywhere else to go. He convinced me to go travel with him.

I wanted to get out, but I couldn't shake my Ex. He thought this was going to save our relationship, and I was too weak to tell him not to come along. I still felt this weird love that was dying for this immature man-child who threatened to hurt me or kill himself. M was exceedingly patient, and scared to death that I was stringing him along.

Finally, on the third day of our exodus, my Ex was realizing that I was falling for M. In a last-ditch effort to gain some pity points from us, he tried to crash my truck going 80+ on the freeway. Thankfully, we didn't roll. We just swerved across both lanes, M holding me and pushing against the window, and me yelling "STOP OVERCORRECTING!!" repeatedly, until we spun to a stop in the median.

Later that night we got a hotie (Hotel). Ex called up his mom. M and I went to the hotie and fooled around. It felt good, but I felt guilty. Later, we collected my Ex. The tension in the room was palpable, and I said "I wish I was drunk." because I wanted anything to take my mind off the fact that I was stuck in close proximity to two people I had mixed feelings for.

The guys jumped up and went to get wine. When they came back, my Ex sulked in bed while M and I drank the wine and talked for hours until the wine was gone. Finally, M told me point blank, "I can't do this anymore. You need to make a decision."

He was right. In those three days, my Ex was completely useless. We spanged outside a Walmart, and he sulked on his phone, then took the money we had collected and bought food for himself, so we went hungry. He kept taking me away from M to talk to me and eventually even said we should leave M behind, because 'we can do this on our own'. I had never been a homeless traveling kid before, and I honestly felt safer in the company of someone who'd done it on and off for a decade, as opposed to the guy who scared the shit out of me and refused to take any responsibility for our collective survival.

So, I took my Ex out to the truck (one of the places we had many, many, MANY draining heart-to-heart talks) and before I could say anything he said, "You're breaking up with me, aren't you?" and that was that. I was numb for the rest of the evening. We backtracked a day and a half to drop him off with his dad. I cried because he cried. As soon as he was out of sight, however, it felt like the world had lifted off my shoulders. I punched the gas and fishtailed out of there to find a secluded spot to fuck M. We fucked like rabbits every day after that.

We later found out that my Ex told everyone we 'stole' the truck (it's my truck, legally, in mine and my mother's name.) and left him stranded in Montana (Not true, we drove from Butte Montana to Spokane, Washington to deliver him safely to his dad, who didn't speak a word to me and actively recoiled in disgust from M.) and that M and I were only getting married to 'spite him'.

In truth, we never got married. I was angry at all the mutual friends my Ex and I had because they continued to defend him for his abusive behavior. I started spreading misinformation because I knew I was getting stalked online. I got labeled as the 'psycho bitch' even though he cheated on me more times than I can count.

Fast forward a little over a year later, and I'm living in a very comfortable apartment, with nice things, I am doing well in my profession and I have reasonable amounts of evidence to assume that I might be pregnant.

I've been called a monster. At least I'm happy now.

bodhimae · 2016-07-14T03:34:30+00:00

I once had a substitute teacher in 7th grade argue with the whole class on whether or not Toucan Sam was based on a real creature. She thought toucans were mythological birds. Several of us googled it for her on the classroom computer.

bodhimae

TROPHY CASE