My Break Up with Netflix

Oh my goodness! There is controversy and hurt feelings run amok all over the interwebs regarding the way that Netflix changed their prices. Outrage in the village, people! And, yeah, I did decide to cancel my subscription and, yeah, it did happen to coincide with said price changes but it really didn't have to do with them. Well, I guess maybe it did a little bit but not by much.

This is more a piece about how I go through phases. I'm sure you do, too? I'm only sure of that because all of my siblings do. My older brother goes through phases that are years and years and years long so maybe that's not so much a "phase" as much as an ever growing and expansive personality which might just be the right way to go about it. But the mind wants what it wants and my mind needs constant changing stimulation. But I go through phases. They're generally six months long or so. I go through healthy eating and regular exercise phases followed up by I'm-so-excited-about-cooking-things. I go through phases where I'm going to write every day--no matter what. This is subsequently followed by "What's the point? I'ma write only when I feel inspired because then everything will be gold! (no it won't)" I went through a meditation phase... it lasted about ten minutes (spread out over the course of a week). And then I go through rotating movie/ books phases. Those are really the only ones that are consistent. I know that if I'm going through a watch all of the movies phase, then I will inevitably stumble upon one good looking book review in Real Simple Magazine and then bum rush the library.

Did I just use the phrase "bum rush" appropriately? Probably I did not.

I had a professor in college who was from India. She was sweet and oftentimes unreasonable but definitely sweet and she would say things in a unique way. Like instead of saying, "I probably did not use "bum rush" correctly," she would say, "Probably I did not use "bum rush" correctly." Only I'm about a thousand percent certain that Shanti would never use "bum rush" under any sort of circumstance. Anyway, what started out as casual mockery (much like my use of the word "totes" and also "LOL") quickly morphed into my everyday vernacular. So... now I totes put "probably" into weird places in a sentence. Now you know. Do you love it? Probably it bugs the hell out of you like it did me. (Also, most of her "v" sounds came out as "w" sounds and you should have seen the look of confusion on our faces the first time she asked us to "identify the werb". It was mostly awesome but there was always that anxious self-doubt where you're wondering "is this the accent thing or just a word that I've never heard before...")

So now I'm going through a reading phase. I joined the adult summer reading program at the McPherson Public Library (because I am middle-aged and trying to fill my time since the Empty Nest Syndrome has set in) and it's forcing me to read a bunch of genres that I am not instinctively drawn to. I like that. I'm reading Latin American lit right now and, frankly, I'm feeling a little saucy. Also, I've been talking about starting up a local book club. I think my little town is in need of one and maybe as the summer comes to a close, then I'll seriously try to get one started if people are interested. I know I'm interested. I really miss talking about stories with people who have all read the same thing.

So anyway, Netflix, all that to say that's why I left you. I can almost guarantee that I'll come back to you at some point. But when I cancelled my subscription, you gave me this little questionnaire to fill out about why I was leaving. I checked the boxes that kind of worked for my reasons but it wasn't enough. You were like, "are you leaving me for Amazon? Hulu Plus?? You know you have to pay for that, too! Those bitches." But that's not it, Nettie, baby, honey, shhh... there's no one else. It's just--you're not it for me right now. Not, now. And I know you're going to send me occasional emails begging for me to return to you--and maybe I will. I get lonely sometimes at night.

And I really don't mind spending $7 a month to have you send dvd's to my house as often as I like. I really don't. Seven dollars is a steal! And if I ever streamed movies on my computer, then the new $15 price for both is still a really great deal! It is. It's just that if I'm absolutely not using this service, then I'm going to save my $7 and give it to Applebees in exchange for a sangria in a glass the size of a small fish tank. It's nothing against you. I just have priorities and those priorities involve Chuck Palahniuk and liquor. But it's not Hulu Plus. I promise, I'll never pay to stream a movie onto my laptop. That's just stupid.

Do you go through phases? Do you want to join my book club? Are you butt hurt because Netflix wants to charge you $4 more than you paid last month?

Delicious, Delicious, Cocaine

Yesterday we got too serious. Today is full of screen shots and humor. And also deliciousness.
I saw this picture over at Tastespotting, today and I have to admit that I'm past the point of being frickin' annoyed about how everyone thinks they're just adorable for putting the word "crack" in front of a food item. What the hell kind of a world are we living in? "Say 'no' to drugs, kids. But you know what's soooo good? Like, delicious. Like--ugh! I can't even describe it, it's like caramel and whipped cream only instead of eating it you sniff it up your nose. No--no--no it's awesome. But it's so awesome that if you try it once you'll never stop tasting it's sweet, sweet awesomeness and you'll die. So... like I said, say 'no' to drugs. Even delicious ones that taste like caramel corn, I guess."
I mean what the hell, you guys? So I did a quick search and took a screen shot of the stupid, inappropriate usages of "crack" as found at www.tastespotting.com. I didn't even try hard. I'm sure throughout the internet there are millions of stay at home moms thinking they're super edgy.

I could have accepted "Crack Cookies", possibly. If they were all crackly or something but no way are you skating by with "'Crack' Cookies."
Okay, actually better known as, "I just want to find the quickest and most delightful way to kill you a little bit." Bacon: Heart disease, Bourbon: alcohol poisoning, Caramel corn: I'm going to choke you and glue your molars together, how does that sound?
Popcorn again? Really? You at least get points for using the word "addictive". You may be dumb but you're not stupid and I applaud that.

And now, all those brownies that are "just like crack". Delicious, delicious crack cocaine.
They're not known as that, that's what you call them at your PTA meetings and all the ladies "ooh" and "aah" but you know what? They go home and they talk to their husbands about how Patty brought these brownies and seemed to know just a little too much about illicit drugs.
Look at that! Again. You guys must be in the same PTA.
Yeah, we know you didn't come up with the name but you could probably come up with a different name. Try something realistic like, "better than brownies that don't contain peanut butter" or "better than getting mocked on the internet by some girl who totes stole that recipe after she screen shot that picture". (Not true, I didn't take that recipe. I only like real drugs in my brownies.)
Oh look at that. Garlic is like crack too, huh? Wow. I like it. It's delicious. Delicious and gives me bad breath but not delicious and makes me jittery and emaciated. So, whatever. Potato/ potato.
Oh my gosh! :) Garlic again! That's so... clever or something. Ah! Careful! Don't get addicted to the garlic chips. Don't start paying for these chips by the kilo or anything. Unless you're willing to do that... in which case, I'm looking to open up shop.
Seriously? That's too far. You're kidding me. This blog is called "whiteonricecouple" well... I would guess so. These are the same people who brought you the Garlic Knots that are worth ruining your life over. Real cool, guys.
Okay, now there. You see that? That is how you describe a friggin delicious cheesecake. No crack. D.A.R.E. to keep foodies off drugs, y'all.

Have we forgotten what crack is really like? You know what's like crack??



Now.
How delicious are those brownies?

The Absolute Best Tips on Dating

So you've happened upon a ticket to an event that you weren't previously aware of and are, likely, barely interested in but now your stomach is all up in knots--filled with societal expectations and self-doubt. Congratulations, you're a man now! What do you do? Well, you'd better instigate courtship. But how?! I'm here to help. Well, me and this video.

For those of you who can't watch the video--I'll break it down for you. This will also be helpful for people who need a little extra advice, some more oomph and detail that a 12 minute PSA simply can't provide. Also, while this advice is timeless--I'll try to break it down into a way that will relate to those of us who are courting in the 21st century. Ready? Let's go!

The first thing to remember is that your first date should be something that causes you great anxiety. For the most part, you're not embarking on this adventure because it's something you're interested in, after all. You're just trying to prove something to yourself.

How Do You Choose A Date?
Well, there are so many girls to choose from. It's important to pick the right one. If you were attracted to anyone in particular, it could be helpful but that's not necissarily the case. That would add an additional level of excitement that is best left for more experienced daters. Tip: it's best to keep feelings out of the equation for as long as possible. Heck, some people maneuver a whole lifetime without exhibiting any emotion whatsoever. Later, they will be labeled as "sociopaths" but, later you'll be an embittered middle aged man with a quickly diminishing retirement plan. You'll have other things to worry about.

There are three sorts of girls in this world. Pretty girls, ugly girls, and somewhere in-between girls.
Pretty girls will intimidate you because they're so aware of how pretty they are.
Ugly girls will bore you because they're so aware of how ugly they are.
In-between girls have just the right balance. They're easy to look at, but they are also so accustomed to having to work for attention that they'll constantly be craving your approval and sending subconscious signals that they give enthusiastic head. Tip: Middle-of-the-road girls give the best head. Even the narrator agrees. Before the taping of this PSA, there was a rousing game of Boff, Kill, Marry and it was unanimous: Janice, Betty, Anne.

How Do You Ask for a Date?
First of all, when you're asking for her, use your real name. It's a terrible idea to let your date's parents know right off the bat that all your friends call you Woody. Your mom calls you Woody, too but that's because she doesn't get it. Because she's a woman.

But let's get real, you're not going to call her. People don't call people. They meet on the internets. Or, if they have met in person, they text one another. Phone calls are for emergencies, or relaying quick bits of information, not for anything that would provide you with any sense of vulnerability. You'll have no technology to hide behind in the event that you need to quickly abort. But that doesn't remove the fact that you have to do it right because if you do it wrong, she'll pretend to have other plans. Real talk: she doesn't really have other plans. When you communicate with this girl on Facebook, get it right. You can't afford to screw this up.

Don't be too shy. She will reject you.

From Woody (Tues 12:46 am): I have a ticket to a thing. And it says I can bring someone else so if you don't have anything else going on but you probably do so don't feel like you have to say yes unless you want to say yes. It's on Saturday, the thing. So let me know.
From Woody (Tues 12:56 am): Obviously you aren't interested. Sorry to bother you.
From Woody (Tues 12:58 am): Oh, it's the Hi-Teen Carnival. But we won't be getting high. Unless you wanna. I could probably score something off Barry--he owes me a favor anyway. Let me know--if you wanna. Or not. It's up to you. Saturday.
From Anne (Wed 10:00 am): Well, really? No, thanks, Woody.
And then she will click "reply" and shake her head at your pathetic nature. You blew it.

But, don't be too cocky. She will reject you.

(Posted to Anne's public FB wall) From Woody (four minutes ago): U + Me = fknnn!! Saturday!
From Anne (a three seconds ago): Well, I guess I'm busy.
From Woody (a few seconds ago): Ura bitch
From Betty (a few seconds ago): Woody, I'm not busy on Saturday.

Do it just right. She will always accept. After she checks with her ma and pa.

Text from Woody at 5:32 pm: Hey, if you're not busy on Saturday do you want to meet up at the Hi-Teen Carnival?
Text from Anne at 6:14 pm: Can we go to the bar and heckle the karaoke-rs afterward?
Text from Woody at 6:14 pm: Yes. Yes we can.

And Woody will flop down on his bed and fantasize about Anne eating cotton candy.

If Anne really is busy, though, and you don't feel like waiting for a time when she's not busy. Call Betty.

A few quick tips for the ladies (because, really, your only responsibility is to show up, look pretty and laugh too much): try to dress like a substitute teacher. And not the slutty kind who gives you stickers at the end of the day. The mean ones who mispronounces everyone's names. Sleeves. Collars. Long hemlines. Leave it all to the imagination.
Also, don't be upset if your date is cheap--if you leave him with enough money, he'll be able to take you out again. Or he'll stop at Chipotle on the way home.
If your date gets a flat tire on the way to picking you up--run away. Anyone who encounters a freak accident on such a sacred occasion is a dead-beat and best to be avoided.

Sudden Plot Complication: Flowers? A do or a don't??
The rule of thumb in this video is that you should only bring flowers if it is a momentous occasion--like prom or the first time you're going to go all the way (which is obvi the case with Ed and Mary, this evening).
In real life, I don't know anyone who ever expected flowers on a date (I don't know anyone who dates). Most girls I know would rather get flowers when they've been sick or if it's their birthday. Tip: Always on Valentines day. Even if she says she doesn't believe in commercialism and yadda-yadda-yadda--she wants flowers, okay? She doesn't know it until noon on February 14th, though, so you should just plan ahead or she'll be a little bit pissed. Mostly at herself but she'll take it out on you.

On your date you will learn that all of your fantasies about Anne are true! Hooray! She throws darts. She looks to you when she's proud of herself. She butts in line at the Fortune Telling booth. And oh my god, the hot dog. She's starts out so delicately with the very tip. This is proving to be a fruitful evening.

How Do You Say Goodnight?
Sealing the deal is probably one of the most awkward parts of the evening. Neither of you want to admit that you'd like to touch each other's no-no places just a little bit before you go in the house but you don't want to give the impression that you're totally opposed to the idea. What to do?

Obviously don't just go for the kill. You know just as well as I do that if both of you have had a good time, you'll both be into it. But you can't do that--you didn't even think to buy her flowers, tonight. Not to mention her roommate is home and probably stoned on the couch and won't leave you two alone even if you drop totally obvious hints. It's just not in your best interest. Plus, you took her to the "Hi Teen Carnival", she wasn't expecting this to go anywhere so she didn't shave her legs.

Closing on a first date that doesn't involve any alcohol is totally easy, tell each other how much fun you had. Stand a little too close, and whisper something about how you'd like to do this again sometime. She'll get the shivers. Tip: Don't wait a freakin' week to call her. If you like her, text her when you get home or some time the next day, at the latest. If you don't like her, avoid her. You don't owe her anything--unless you owe her something.
When you get home, you will feel the desire to text her a picture of your erect penis. Tip: do not do this. That is strictly third date behavior.

And that's how you successfully maneuver a first date. I hate to break it to you, though, the second date is where things start to really get tricky.

The Internet is a Weird Place to Spend So Much Time

This is a collection of screen shots that I've been accruing over the course of a few weeks. They will be divided into a three different categories:

1. The Internet Robots Want to Make Sure That They Are the Only Robots on the Internet.
   
2. The Internet Robots are Watching Your Every Move.
3. Miscellaneous Things That Do Not Involve Internet Robots
   

Let's just dive right in, shall we?
1. The Internet Robots Want to Make Sure That They Are the Only Robots on the Internet and so they devised this flawless plan. Now I never, ever get spammed. Except when I still do.

"Captcha" is a word, now. I guess.

2. The Internet Robots are Watching Your Every Move and they report back to me. I learn all sorts of things about you. Like, a lot of you are coming from styleaddicted.net! OMG, like thanks and stuff and I'm all flattered that you'd associate with me or whatever. Let's see where else are you coming from? ...Hummer Club? What the fuck, you guys?
Sometimes I say, "I will look at the stats and see if anything weird happened to my blog when I wasn't watching."

And then I see that over the course of one hour, despite the complete dead time on either side, one day at 8:00 am, over fifty people looked at my page. Weird, Internet. Weird. It has me racking my brain trying to figure out what that was about but, nope, nothing special. Just one of those weird flukes.

Let's see what phrases people use to find their way over here, this is always fun:Someone's so smart to a) read Anne Lamott, b) know that "don't be an asshole" is the number one rule and then c) read my page. I'm certain we'd be friends.
Huh. Someone Googled "morrissey teeth". That's weird.
Someone thinks I drink too much... that's cool. I'm, you know, comfortable with my amount of alcohol intake but if you want to be judgy, that's cool. I guess.
"Morrissey teeth, again?" Alright.
Who the hell put "Bronte" and "Macfarlane" in the same search box?
"Lies told by hideous men" oh, that just makes me sad.
"Morrissey teeth"... yet again.
Bup. Bup. Bup. If there's one thing that's more sad than the search for "lies told by hideous men", it would have to be "hideous men, sex scene" directly followed by "if a girl say you are not my type". Oh, it's a pitiful day on the interwebs.

3. Miscellaneous Things That Do Not Involve Internet Robots but things that I saw that I either loved a lot, like this comment about John Green from a YouTube video...
...or things that I did not like so much, like how Netflix created a film genre based on my past movie choices? I will have to say that I don't agree with Netflix's assessment of my cinematic tastes.

And... am I wrong? Is "bong" something else entirely? Like, something that is conducive to Mommy Blogging and cherry pie and curly typeface?
This won't work. Never will this ever, ever, work:
And when I found this retweet by Zooey Deschanel from Ben Gibbard about Dave Bazan's new record and their friendship and what not, I got kind of a girl boner just thinking about it.


Enjoy your day!
Love, love, love, your friend, Libby.

A List of Specific Things That Always Seem Like Good Ideas. But They Are Not.

I just did something that had the potential to be pretty stupid. For several weeks I've been texting my friends, saying, "I feel like doing X ("x" is a variable for the stupid thing I did. Not drugs. Not drugs.), do you think I should?" And 100% of the time, my friends would say, "You absolutely should not do X. You will regret it and you will feel sad. Also, you will develop herpes. Probably." And I never did.

But then, this afternoon, I said, "Hey, what the hell? I'ma do it." And I didn't ask anyone because I knew they would say the thing about it being stupid. So I began this task and right as I hit the proverbial "send" button, my soul crawled up from my toes (little known fact: that's where everyone keeps their soul) and screamed, "No!!! Abort! Abort! Abort!" Luckily the gods were smiling down and that stupid thing didn't go very far at all but I'm not doing that again.

How's that for a vague intro/segue? For putting up with it, and for loving me, I give you:

A List of Specific Things That Always Seem Like A Good Idea

Until You've Reached The Point of No Return

Painting: I painted all of the trim in my living and dining room. I also painted the fireplace. You expect it to be a relaxing, creative experience that will take, oh, maybe an afternoon and with a little attention to detail, you will feel good about yourself for weeks to come. It's always nice when you can stock pile self-esteem without having to resort to sexual favors.

But does it ever work that way? It does not. The following is a look into the mental progression of deciding to paint a room.

1. Beige is so 2002.
2. Paint the walls!
3. So many colors to choose from. I'll go with Cordovan and then consider using that name for my first born. Cordovan will be such a sexy baby.
4. "I'll take a gallon of interior semi-gloss in... Cordovan." Then you whip your hair around.
5. Pouring paint into the tray is such a gorgeous activity.
6. Loading the roller brush with paint is such a satisfying activity.
7. Rolling the paint onto the wall is such a--crap. I'm going to have to do this on every wall. And not miss any spots.
8. And I'm most definitely going to have to do two coats.
9. Painting. Blows.
10. I'm out of paint so I must be finished.
11. I hate Cordovan.

Playing Truth or Dare. Playing Truth or Dare is like showing up to a job interview without pants. First of all, you don't play Truth or Dare unless you have a crush on someone at the party (so that's your interview). And it will always end badly. Always. It's a fact. You're hoping it'll turn into Spin The Bottle and you'll get hooked up with your soul mate. It won't. And we're 27 years old. I don't know how we even got invited to a party like this.

The first time that I played Truth or Dare, I was in the 6th grade and a group of us ditched out on Oktoberfest (which, in its prime, was a little like Mardi Gras for the youth of my very, very small town) and ran to a shed behind a friend's house where we said curse words and sat in fear of getting caught. Okay, that last part was probably just me. Someone suggested Truth or Dare and everyone was down. The problem is that 6th graders don't really have secrets and shockingly poor imaginations so all of the dares were "I dare you to kiss so-and-so." No one dared me to kiss the boy that I had a crush on. They only dared me to kiss Tevin. And I refused. In retrospect, that was probably not very good for him. That was, actually, quite rude. When you agree to play Truth or Dare, you agree to drop your standards at the door. It's the nature of the game. I left, disappointed because I didn't get to kiss that one boy.

In college, we drove out to the lake to play Truth or Dare. But we were in college and surprisingly lethargic. So, really, we just played Truth or Truth. I had a crush on a boy there, too, and I left disappointed because it was revealed that he had kissed someone else not that long ago. Truth or Dare: it's always, only about kissing. And you will throw up in the mud.

Wearing shoes without socks. It always seems like a good idea. All the cute girls can pull this off. Keds without socks. In shoes without socks, you're thin and light and airy and are probably wearing a sundress no matter what. Vampire Weekend plays everywhere you go. That is, for the first forty-five minutes and then when you're standing still, in line at Pottery Barn and notice that you're working on a blister the size of Delaware (you have such big feet) and you're no where near home. Once you nod in the blister's direction and acknowledge its existence, you will be, instantly, 40% crippled. Hobbling everywhere you go and yelling at your friends to wait up, you guys! They give you the finger and walk into American Apparel because they told you to wear socks. Now you hear Nickleback everywhere you go.

Watching Garden State: You're all saying, "Hey, I liked Garden State!" And of course you did. All of us of a certain age watched this film, birthed of Zach Braff's loins and handed to us still covered in the goop. And we loved it like it was our adopted, Asian brother. Never before had we been so understood. No one understands me! We sang. Our parents don't get us! Our old friends back home don't get us! Our psychiatrists are fucked up! Only Natalie Portman understands me! And then we set our MSN Messenger away message as "Off to explore the infinite abyss" and sat in the bathtub.

That was good. You sat in it. You stewed amongst your own obscurity and you went on with life and then you see Garden State on your bookshelf but anytime you pop it in the DVD player you think, "I never understood that Serpico joke." And you're irritated about what an effort it is for Zach Braff to see past his own nose but you know he'll never do it. I say watch it one more time, though--watch it with the commentary. Worth it.

Communism

Eating an Altoid: You think you need a mint. You buy a tin of Altoids because, they're curiously strong and your face is all up in everyone else's face all day and you'd like them to contemplate your curiously strong breath--in a good way. You want to leave a positive impact on the world. But there comes a point between popping it into your mouth and actually finishing it where you find that you're in a double dog dare with yourself. It hurts. Your nose is running. Forget it. It's made with mad amounts of sugar which is only going to give you worse breath than you had originally.Just spit it out. You win both ways.

It Was Best To Not Say Anything At All

And now, A Short, Offensive Conversation between Myself and My Sister

Libby: Hey, question.

Sarah: Yes?

Libby: I'm writing a blog and it's tentatively titled "A Dozen Unsolicited Confessions for Mah Nigs". That's... offensive, right?

Sarah: Hahaha! To some, yes.

Libby: I need a new word but I don't want to say "homies" and I'm not exactly sold on "bitches".

Sarah: Motherfuckers.