The States and Territories of Australia
I saw other countries doing this and thought Australia should have one too.
- Uterus: oh you have a completely full day of activity??
- Me: don't
- Uterus: and a sleepover afterwards??
- Uterus: hardly any breaks??
- Uterus: wouldn't it be a shame
- Uterus: if something were to
- Uterus: happen
what you got on your Instagram that’s so private? your grande latte? that sandwich you ate yesterday? bye
Okay you know what I was just gonna reblog this and say nothing but you know what, I’m pissed off and you wanna know why?
Ted is a Nice Guy. I don’t mean a nice man, no. I mean the motherfucking “Nice Guy” who moans and complains about how women just won’t flock to him and be exactly who he expects of them. He knew from the beginning Robin wanted to focus on her career before marriage. He knew from the beginning she didn’t want kids. She rejected him time after time before they dated the first time. She rejected him time after time after that, for nine goddamn fucking years. His refusal to stop pursuing her, and accept she did not fucking love him, destroyed his relationship with Victoria TWICE. He is the whiny high school teenager bitching because the popular girl he obsesses over just isn’t into him. He is the goddamn Nice Guy, the kind whose every action, every so-called kind deed is done purely out of trying to get Robin to date him.
Robin motherfucking Scherbatsky was an independent woman who not only relied on herself, but expected the men she wanted to be with to be independent and rely on himself, as well. She was career-minded and strong and independent and self-reliant. Those were the traits that doomed her and Ted.
In this gifset we see that Ted did not respect Robin for who she was. He didn’t want her to be self-reliant—he wanted her to rely on him. He’s like so many men out there, so many Nice Guys. Baby, let me take care of you while you put me before everything else, You’re too independent, Robin. I need you to need me, I need you to rely on me. The reason they didn’t work out was because they both wanted and needed different things in relationships, and that’s okay—what isn’t okay is that instead of accepting that, Ted blames her. Tells her that SHE is the reason why they broke up, and something about her is WRONG. He insults her, tells her that her fundamental personality is wrong, and that she is why their relationship failed; that they they just aren’t compatible, no; because she is broken.
She is so upset at this she goes to another ex. He’s the Jerk, you know; the guy who all the Nice Guys in the world call The Asshole. And you know what? You know what this Asshole does? He comforts her, he compliments her. He tells her that those traits, teh traits she’s been belittled and taunted over, the traits that make her broken, the reason why She Can’t Find A Man, are what make her wonderful. Barney loved her for her insecurities, and he supported her independence. He supported her self-reliance. In one scene, this Asshole prove to be far more accepting and mature than the so-called Nice Guy.
So who do she end up with?
"People are puppets held together with string,
theres a beautiful sadness that runs through him”
"I swear to every heaven ever imagined,
if I hear one more dead-eyed hipster
tell me that art is dead, I will personally summon Shakespeare
from the grave so he can tell them every reason
why he wishes he were born in a time where
he could have a damn Gmail account.
The day after I taught my mother
how to send pictures over Iphone she texted
me a blurry image of our cocker spaniel ten times in a row.
Don’t you dare try to tell me that that is not beautiful.
But whatever, go ahead and choose to stay in
your backwards-hoping-all-inclusive club
while the rest of us fall in love over Skype.
Send angry letters to state representatives,
as we record the years first sunrise so
we can remember what beginning feels like when
we are inches away from the trigger.
Lock yourself away in your Antoinette castle
while eat cake and tweet to the whole universe that we did.
Hashtag you’re a pretentious ass hole.
Van Gogh would have taken 20 selflies a day.
Sylvia Plath would have texted her lovers
nothing but heart eyed emojis when she ran out of words.
Andy Warhol would have had the worlds weirdest Vine account,
and we all would have checked it every morning while we
Snap Chat our coffee orders to the people
we wish were pressed against our lips instead of lattes.
This life is spilling over with 85 year olds
rewatching JFK’s assassination and
7 year olds teaching themselves guitar over Youtube videos.
Never again do I have to be afraid of forgetting
what my fathers voice sounds like.
No longer must we sneak into our families phonebook
to look up an eating disorder hotline for our best friend.
No more must I wonder what people in Australia sound like
or how grasshoppers procreate.
I will gleefully continue to take pictures of tulips
in public parks on my cellphone
and you will continue to scoff and that is okay.
But I hope, I pray, that one day you will realize how blessed
you are to be alive in a moment where you can google search
how to say I love you in 164 different languages."
b.e.fitzgerald (Art is a Facebook status about your winter break.)