a/n: pls don't get the impression from this rant that i hate my parents. i do not. my parents are awesome and do so much for me and even though we don't see eye to eye on SHIT (literally: every time i say the word "shit," my dad is like "don't talk about shit like that! it's USEFUL! it helps crops grow and DNA and mitochondria!"), i love them very much.
Yesterday evening, I had the great fortune of being in a Stop and Shop, or as my dad jokingly calls it sometimes, "Stop and Rob" or "Stop and Shoot." I somehow found myself in the magazine aisle, reading a magazine called Astrogirl.
It caught my attention with its "predictions" of 2015 celebrity love lives. I knew my dad would probably snatch the magazine out of my hands and rip it to shreds while praying to St. Michael to keep us safe from witches.
I merely glanced through this section. I don't happen to know shit about celebrity love lives, so I didn't really care.
The next page told me that, as a Saggitarius, I am OPTIMISTIC like Miley Cyrus and that haters won't get me down. Which is kinda true. I'm not too sure about the optimistic part, but I don't happen to give a shit what haters say.
There was a bullshit quiz on lucky charms that said a rabbit's foot would be a good luck charm for me. I think I had a rabbit's foot once, but the dog ate it.
There was also a quiz on what my aura color would be. It was a really basic quiz that probably wouldn't give accurate results, so I skipped it.
Another article on wishes didn't tell me anything I didn't already know, except that when you find a dropped penny, you can make a wish and drop it again, and when someone else finds it your wish will be granted. I actually liked this. I love little wish thingies.
Okay, so here's what pissed me off: There was a two-page spread on love spells.
Now aside from being "evil witchcraft" (nod to my dad), it's also "total bullshit." Grinding up flower petals and orange peels and chanting Harry Styles' name is not going to make him come to your door with a bouquet of flowers professing his love to you. If you want a guy, you have to fucking WORK for it.
Not to mention the entire magazine automatically assumed every girl is straight and desperately needs a boy. Talk about against every single fucking value I have. I tossed the magazine over my shoulder, and a couple seconds later, an announcement came over the PA: "Attention all customers: Will Elizabeth Paulin (my dreadful real name) please come to customer service? Thank you."
I went to customer service to find that my stupid mom had left customer service to go look for me. Real smooth, Mom. -___-
this one was kinda weird. sorry i guess? lol