cvxn

I was going to say that Yahoo!+Tumblr means exactly jack shit for me, since I already overuse exclamation points, and I’ve been at the same follower plateau for A YEAR, but then I went to Flickr and tried to post this photo that I took a few years ago, and it was a fucking NIGHTMARE*, so thanks, Yahoo! for making a thing that used to work into something super shitty and HAVE FUN STORMING THE CASTLE!

[*I had to fucking SCREENGRAB my own photo that I took because the original is on a long dead hard-drive and Flickr won’t let you download your own goddamn files. Fuck you with barbed wire fire, Flickr. Seriously GDIAF.]

saloandseverine:

Baisers volés (Stolen Kisses), François Truffaut, 1968

GPOY. (Sometimes I want to know, and sometimes I think “fuck them! Who cares what they think.”)

WHATEVER, you guys (other than the lovely lady to whom I was communicating above). I know it’s stupid, but it bums me out that this just sits there with one star and people who find stuff like this funny never bother to RT me to their followers, some of whom might be empowered to include something I say in one of those “people we think are funny” lists I have never been on since I joined the infernal Twittering service in 2007. Is there not enough room for all of us on the internet and its concomitant listicles!?

Signed, 

Irked Person At A Social Media Plateau For Like A Year, Writing A Post I Will Likely Delete Later Because I Sound Like A Stupid Gross Baby

GPOY

(Source: stabla)

Achievement sort of unlocked: Viewy Kitsilano Starbucks Yoga Pants Dog Walking Coffee…

Except the wait was just long enough I wasn’t sure how little Kevin Fredderline here was going to behave in my absence. Then I remembered how much good coffee was left behind for me, and that dogfriend and I could enjoy even viewier shit from his place (plus there is the bonus of someone practising classical piano in the next building, which I enjoy far more than listening to Kitsilano Yoga Pants Ladies) and after he did his biznass, we came home and did that… until he got way too into the plants on the deck and lost his privileges.

The pianist is now learning La Bamba (I finally got it, but not because of anything but the notes), and had an adorable go at Flight of the Bumblebee yesterday.

Mad viewy shit, dogfriend, great coffee, sweats I don’t feel compelled to do anything in but cook, eat and Internet, and a thoroughly charming audio soundtrack (although far better on classics than pops, FWIW)… That’s how we unlock now.

Wow, Tumblrbot, those are some pretty edgy suggestions there. Dare I risk following such unknowns? How can I be sure they’ll talk about iPads and girlfriends and resort holidays enough to make me feel properly homicidal? I NEED TO KEEP UP THE BILE TO FUEL THE HATE CAULDRON.

Real talk, y’all.