Dear People Who are Way Too Into Something:
Jesus, just shut the fuck up already.
Whether it’s Bieber or Twilight or motherfucking Picasso, I just could not give a shit less after your first 30 lectures about how they, and therefore you, are superior. Because really, that’s all you’re trying to prove; how fucking majestic you are because you love _________. And really, I just could not care less.
Did you know there is a Twilight Dildo? That’s fucked up in ways that I cannot even fathom. That’s some quantum stupid going on where you love a book series so much that when you say, “I really want to have sex with this book,” you are absolutely not joking. Shove some ice up in your ol’ twatwaffle, and it’s $40 less of pretty much the same stupidity.
When you’re threatening death to Selena Gomez for having an ordinary relationship, all the while tweeting about how you’d absolutely have sex with her teenage boyfriend, Justin Bieber, I stop thinking you’re hilariously dumb and we’re slammed right into scary scary land. You’re looking into a future of specials on Investigation Discovery–is that really what you want with your life?
- Did you get a tattoo of a Jon Stewart on your lower back?
- Are you a grown woman who cries, absolutely inconsolably, when Bieber gets a haircut?
- Have you ever shit your pants rather than pause Fried Green Tomatoes?
- Have you ever consulted a physician to complete your transformation into Lady Gaga, Mother Monster?
- Have you ever knifed someone in the face for trying to talk some sense into your closet-dwelling, non-shower-taking-until-the-new-Cricut-Cutter-is-released ass?
Do you love The Greatest American Hero so hard that you shit American Flags?
Then fuck you and the incapacitated horse you rode in on.
I admit to being a geek girl. It’s that love for some anime and gaming and Star Wars that I grapple with in certain situations because talking to the wrong people leads me into scary scary land as well. But I have not and will not wait for 9 months outside GameStop with a colostomy bag and IV nutrition until the new installation of Portal came out, but I’m sure there were more than one that did. Know the line, know your limits.
Really, what are you doing for mankind carrying yourself in such a manner? Look at yourself, woman, you’re fucking ridiculous at 64 in a Sailor Venus costume (when we all know Sailor Mars was the shit). When is the last time you washed that cooch? If you have to think about it, then Jesus H. Christ I don’t even know what we’d be dealing with down there. Better bring a machete.
If you ever find yourself wanting to fuck a book, or slice the throat of a cheery Disney star, or tattoo Ron Paul’s face on your gooch, please take a step back.
Look at your choices. Look at what you have become. These things don’t love you back. Puppies love you back. People love you back–real people, not glittery, shiny people. Those glittery, shiny people could perhaps be aliens sent here to harvest our organs and I told you not to touch them but you didn’t listen and now they’ve enslaved us all and made a cookbook called To Serve Man and I want to rip your pancreas right out with a bendy straw.
You’re putting yourself up there with catastrophic levels of cheesedickery. Just–just stop.
Noa D. Gavin
I’m well aware there are normal fans out there, and I don’t mean you. You can enjoy books and celebrities and other assorted things and you don’t bother anyone. I mean your crazy Aunt Marge and her Twilight Dungeon.
What’s the craziest thing you or someone you know has obsessed over?
—Favorite Comment From The Last Post: From Dear HoodyHoo: “Why is it that wax sculptures of most people look like creepy versions of, well, PEOPLE, but the ones of Reagan always look like the fake puppet-Reagan from that weird Genesis video? And Chuckweasel and I survived a similar HellBus at Arlington National Cemetery last summer… they took us out in the middle of nowhere and LEFT us to fry in the hot, hot sun! Note to self — have headstone equipped with water fountain so as to be most popular with the tourists…”