It’s weird that people have fuck buddies, but not any other buddy derived from one single part of a relationship. No one has a talk-about-finances buddy. There are no share-the-housework-load friends. Friends with just listening benefits are unheard of. I think the reason is because fuck buddies are a much easier sell.
The TV show “Dinosaurs” aired on ABC from 1991 to 1994. Grotesque Muppetry aside, last night, while discussing the show for a podcast I’m on, I came to an amazing realization. The first season of the show takes place in the year 65,000,003 BC. On the show’s finale, three years later, the Dinosaurs exploit the environment, plunging the world into an ice age. This causes the Dinosaurs’ extinction. All that aside, there is a strange piece of genius there. Dinosaurs are generally believed to have been wiped out 65 million years ago. By beginning the show at 65,000,003 BC, the extinction finale lines up with the generally accepted extinction time of the actual dinosaurs.
Not to get incredibly personal here, but I’ve been unemployed for nine months and I’d really like this holiday season to not suck. If you’d like to help out, check out the games I’m selling below, which range from modern stuff to notable rarities. Just e-mail me if you’d like to claim…
Wrestling super star and star of “The Marine” John Cena has no place selling me Fruity Pebbles. Fruity Pebbles and its chocolatey cousin Cocoa Pebbles should only feature Flintstones in their commercials. It’s the last relevant thing the Flintstones are doing. Barney Rubble must fool Fred Flintstone in some way in order to score some Pebbles. Then, as he prepares to celebrate his victory by enjoying a bowl of Pebbles, the scheme falls apart and Barney’s identity or true intentions are made nakedly clear to Fred. Fred then hollers “Barney! My Pebbles!” and chases him away.
John Cena seems like a nice enough guy, but he lacks the draw of your The Rocks or Hulk Hogans. And as someone whose livelihood depends on making conscious, deliberate health choices, I have to imagine his consumption of Fruity Pebbles is much lower than a Barney Rubble’s would be. Barney, as a cartoon character, is capable of eating bowl after bowl with zero negative consequences.
The following is the perfect example of a Fruity Pebbles commercial. Notice the complete lack of wrestling champions.
I really like GTA Online. Mostly for the violence, but also for the role-play. The first guy I rolled looked hella molestory. Like the guy on The Wire who became mayor, the Littlefinger in Game of Thrones, but with tight curls. I changed the appearance of my guy when given the (one and only) chance. After that, I decided to scrub him the fuck up.
My GTA Online character has the most beat-tattoos available in the game. A crusty-ass dagger on the forearm, a neck tattoo, and another I can’t recall at this moment. Then cornrows, a bandanna, and facepaint. Throw on a sports jersey and guess what, mother fuckers? Straight up juggalo.
When I cruise the streets of Los Santos, I do it in my custom Futo Karin, a boxy-as-fuck looking 1980s-ass compact. You know I roll with the hot-pink color scheme on all my rides. When I leave my garage I smash it into some walls for that authentic, busted-but-still-trying look.
This has led to me getting smashed into A LOT, but fuck the haters. Family for life. Woop woop.
Twice now I’ve gone to PAX East on media passes. The first time was when I went for 1up to be on the Retronauts panel, which was awesome. The second time was for woot, and I did a couple of stupid clowny videos that hopefully made some people laugh.
In the press room, there are a bunch of chairs and tables, and outlets, for press people to write their press things. And there is a secret, special wi-fi for media people to upload media stuff. But the best part are the repurposed dog cages that serve as lockers. Grab a key from the nice PAX enforcer, and stow your shit all fucking day. How rad is that?
Answer: super rad.
In the press room are people from all over the damn place. IGN, Destructoid, and about a bazillion small blogs you’ve never heard of. People grinding away, getting their word out there, building their site and just living the paying-dues lifestyle.
Wait, except for that last part, about paying dues. It’s actually the opposite of that. It is my observation, strictly mine, that the folks who work for the big time outlets, guys and gals with recognizable names and faces, are like spooky ghosts in the press room. They keep their voices down, they work diligently and without fanfare, and in some cases they don’t even go there at all.
But I noticed something about a lot of people in the smaller blogs. They act like their press pass is a license to be annoying. Seriously, the enforcers aren’t impressed by you. So what gives you the right to be so obnoxious?
I saw a shocking amount of entitled, man-babyish behavior. People being so loud for no reason. Complaining about not getting onto the floor through some secret, velvet-lined press tunnel. Leaving trash fucking everywhere.
Look, I’m just like you. A dude who is keeping the dream alive, a guy who likes to write about video games and cannot believe that fortune has smiled upon me not once, but twice. I know that writing about video games is a horrible bitch goddess, and any sort of gain that brings you closer to living the dream is in so many ways incredible. But a press pass does not give you license to be a super dick. Yeah, you can jump a couple lines, but even that feels kind of skeezy.
No one cares who you write for. That’s why your name and affiliated media outlet are written so damn tiny on the pass. PAX is not really a press event. It’s an event for nerds and rape-apologists to get together and just wallow in their (and our) subcultures. Don’t, for a minute, think you’re a prima donna because your site gets “x” number of pageviews. You no different than the tens of thousands of other nerds wandering the floor, except they’re appreciating the weekend rather than complaining about it.
Not being an asshole seems to be going OK. I’ve been removing people from my Internet feeds who are also being assholes. I recognize the signs because I do it, too. Post something “controversial,” passive-aggressively challenge people to argue about it, then fall down a rabbit hole of narcissistic fact-spewing cynicism. It’s no good. I spent a lot of time doing it. I’m starting to recognize that a lot of what people are trying to say online preaches to the choir. Not necessarily because it sets out to do so, but because its presented in such a nasty, confrontational way that no one can glean anything useful from it.
I think we, the Internet, do this because it’s so easy. When you make your case, phrasing it negatively, showing negative things, is a lot easier to do because negative things carry their own weight. You can make a YouTube video or a post or a feature about how “X” negatively affects us, and you don’t need to back it up with facts as much as you would if you presented your argument as a series of positive alternatives.
The big irony here is that I cannot think of an example of how to go about doing this. So in the mean time, let’s all try to be less snarky and awful and mean. I’m working on it, and I am not going to lie, it is fucking hard as fuck. I mean, so many people are putting up posts on Facebook that don’t jibe with my beliefs and I have to just scroll on past. That is torture for me. But I’m looking at outcomes rather than looking for an argument. Confronting someone wastes everyone’s time.
I bought the 25th Anniversary Blu-Ray edition of Akira from Amazon the other day. Well, I should say it arrived at my house the other day. Really, I ordered it months ago. It was one of my favorite…
This is something I wrote for NerdSynq because it seemed like it belongs there. tl;dr I screencapped ten random places in Akira to see if each would be visually interesting enough to stand on its own. The answer is “yes,” unsurprisingly.
I’ve come to realize that I am a toxic, cynical disaster. The Internet exacerbates this problem by also being very toxic and cynical. I’ve decided not to care about how wrong people are now. I know, it sounds so stupid. It’s like the xkcd comic “Someone is WRONG on the Internet!” Why do I argue? Why even present my case at all? It does nothing to change anyone’s mind. If anything, it just makes people dig in their heels and go on a wild chase for evidence supporting their beliefs. We all do it. So I don’t need to post thinly-veiled criticisms of literally all the things in snarky non-sequitors. Who benefits? Certainly not me, and for the most part, I am only in control of my own life. I’m trying to remove the toxicity from my demeanor and it isn’t very easy. I’ve turned into this one-dimensional caricature of some asshole Internet fuck who “hates everything.” That’s not even close to true. I tend to find fault in everything. Totally different. But that doesn’t allow me to grow as a human being, and even though most of my growth in my thirties has been the swelling of fat cells, I still have room to grow. As a human, not just an entity of ever-expanding body fat. So I’m stepping back. I’m cutting out a lot of things in my Internet life that cause me to be a hollow, judgmental assbag. People I follow on Twitter and tumblr who generally post confrontational things with little substance are the first to go. I enjoy learning about other views. But a lot of Twitter/tumblr/NeoGAF/THE INTERNET is just passive-aggressive childishness. Why don’t we present our positions as “Here is why my position is good, and why I believe your opinion may be incorrect,” instead of saying “Hey, you are fucking evil for not believing in this thing I believe in?” It’s so very, very easy to be a heartless cynic. I know this, because I’ve been coasting along on cynicism for way too long. It’s like a black, putrid slug’s trail that follows me, and I hope I can break myself of it.
I’ll probably revisit this topic a lot as I try to whittle down the enormous block of thoughts I have on the subject into something useful. For now, just some ramblings. So go and watch some Batkid footage for a while and fill your heart with gladness instead of toxic waste.
One year, six months, eight days, 638 pages, 222,851 words, and 1,025,891 characters after I started writing it, my novel Gone Whalin’ is available on Amazon in paperback and Kindle. If you want to go buy it now and not read the rest of this, I will understand.
The self-styled pickup artists who went around motorboating women with the ostensible goal of raising money for breast cancer research had their $7,000 donation rejected by the Breast Cancer Research Foundation, and the bros are blaming the “haters.”
For November, women will be offering to donate money to prostate cancer research on behalf of any man who lets the women finger the man’s butthole. What, you don’t like cancer research? You monster. Now bend over.
One time I was in NYC and I saw Robin Williams and I went up to him and shook his hand. I didn’t know what to say, so I was like, “Mr. Williams, you’re the coolest.” He said “Thanks. I like your backpack.” I had a vintage GI Joe backpack because I used to be cool. Then he got in his limo and drove off.
It’s November, which suddenly means “No Shave November” or the awkwardly portmanteaued mustache-plus-November “Movember.” Initially, it was an excuse for some dudes to grow beards. Growing a beard or a mustache is a pretty gross process. It’s why most people grow them on vacations. So if a month is declared to be a month in which dudes should grow facial hair, it was probably originally because some dudes just wanted to grow a beard. You don’t need a reason to grow a beard. But again, growing facial hair is a super gross process for most men. It comes in all patchy and itchy and takes a long time to get to the bad-ass biker dude look everyone wants. A lot of guys give up on the facial hair after a few weeks because it gets itchy as fuck, and also people are like “Ew, did someone glue their pubic trimmings to your face?”
So the month was set, but people started to get wise to the ulterior motives of Movember. “You just want to grow a beard for fashion reasons,” people started to figure out. Instead of saying, “Yes, I do,” it suddenly became a charity event. Deception is a terrible web we weave, you see. Too afraid to simply grow facial hair any old time, the founders initially declared a month-long movement to do so. Afraid of doing something with no real purpose and admitting as such out loud, a charitable reason was later found for the beard-farming month.
Nowadays, it’s about raising awareness of men’s health issues like colon cancer and prostate cancer. Haha, women, you thought you could get away with a month of breast cancer awareness and not have it reciprocated with reminders of the insides of men’s buttholes? Well, guess what? All month long, every time you look at a patchy, super-barf pube face, you have to realize that the coarse, uncomfortable hairs sprouting from some random dude’s face are so you will be aware of cancers of the ass region. The colon is where poop lives right before it’s born, and the prostate is hiding right there behind the wall of the butthole.
Now before you get all Wikipedia on me and look up the origins of No Shave November, and tell me how it was originally founded by a rugby team who lost a friend to ass cancer, I should point out that I don’t actually care what the official story is. Because as recently as 4 years ago, no one was participating in the event. Two years ago it was like some jokey morning-radio bit. Last year, December 1st was Facebook and Twitter covered in “thanks for all the support! Shaving today” posts, as the event had suddenly become an awareness-raising phenomenon.
You know what needs to be raised more than awareness? Money. Money has cured more diseases and helped more people than all awareness campaigns combined, multiplied by 10000000000. You can only raise awareness once. After that, subsequent awareness-raising campaigns are actually reminding-people-of-something-that-exists campaigns.
Have you ever heard the expression “The road to hell is paved with good intentions?” Awareness campaigns are the perfect example. They trick people into believing they’re helping out when in fact they are doing nothing. Literally nothing. It’s the charitable equivalent of “I had this million dollar idea.” The idea is the easiest, free-est part of the whole thing. Implementing that idea is difficult and fraught with failure and suffering. Awareness is the idea phase of charitable causes.
So remember, this month, as you find yourself surrounded by increasingly feral looking men, nothing is actually being accomplished. The only thing that comes of Movember is that a small fraction of men too afraid to grow a beard “just because” will learn that their beard looks super gross. All the dudes whose beards look awesome already rock that shit every single day. They don’t need to pretend there is some greater-good involved in it.
If you want to help a cause, donate money or time to a charity you think is worthy. Then tell people “Hey, I’ve been helping out at this homeless shelter/animal rescue/orphanage,” and if they’re interested, tell them how they can also help out. That is the sort of awareness campaign we should be celebrating. Not this do-nothing, feel-good-anyway beard month.
My oldest son will be 10 in February, and he still sucks his thumb. He just told me that he’s phasing it out, and he thinks he’s almost done with it. I was like “That’s awesome, dude, great work!” but inside I was like “NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO my little bud!”
This is a dumb place for a post about baby furniture since the average tumblr user is like 20, but it’s also where I host my blog so deal with it. Whenever someone I know gets pregnant, and is putting together a nursery, she will usually acquire the following items: a crib, some manner of rocking chair, and a changing table. Changing tables are the dumbest pieces of furniture ever created. There is no point to a dedicated changing table because babies just shit all the time, and also pee. You can get away with letting the pee build up for a while, but the shit must be attended to immediately. So you can scoop up Baby and rush him or her into the nursery and open up the drawer with shit-cleaning gear in it and get down to business. Or you can just keep stashes of diapers and wipes and stuff all over your house, like a squirrel packing away nuts for the winter. Because the secret BIG BABY doesn’t want you to know is that literally every surface that is not boiling hot or covered in broken beer bottles is a changing table.
Sure, the first dozen or so diapers you change are a disastrous mix of clumsiness and baby turds, but after that you become a kung-fu master. I used to be able to change a diaper one-handed, while driving… A MOTORCYCLE. So having baby’s little shit table is dumb when you can just clean them up in the living room while you’re watching TV.
People defend their changing table choice by pointing out that it converts into a dresser. lol lol ya ok, good luck with that. Anything baby-furniture related that is convertible is a bad idea. Cribs that convert into toddler beds are also very dumb. Once little Baby Snookums gets big enough for that Big Boy (or Girl, or Genderless since this is tumblr) Bed, and you show him/her/ze their crib, all fucked up looking, they will instantly want their crib back. Kids are only really stupid about certain things like math and politics. When you try to trick them by lowering their crib and removing the sides and telling them it’s a Big Kid bed, they are throwing all their suspicious looks at it. The mattress is small and the sheets still have faded poop stains on them from when they were on the bed a year and a half ago. They see right through that shit and won’t want to make the transition. Plus it only lasts for like a year before Kid gets too big. Just toss the crib on craigslist and by a twin bed. Then your kid will be fucking AMPED.
Back to the convertible changing table. When the kid is too big to use the changing portion of it, which is QUICKLY, and you make it into a dedicated dresser, it is a small, shitty dresser that frustrates you with its lack of general utility.
If you really, really must have a changing table to complete your baby nursery set (which, by the way, is the one room in the whole house the baby will spend the least amount of its baby life), just get a regular, quality dresser. Put a pad on the top and use it as a changing table. It will be a decision you will never regret, nor will you have to spend the rest of your time justifying your terrible purchase.
After you go through basic military training, which covers basic… military… training, such as learning ranks and how to march and how to fold your shirts, you go to technical school. This is pretty much the case for all branches of the service.Tech school is where you are taught your military trade, whether it be some bullshit secretary job or a trained killer. My job was 3E011, “Electrical Systems Apprentice.” That’s dumb military speak for “electrician.” Not an airplane electrician, but a normal electrician with some extra Air Force-specific electrical training.
The 3E0X1 career field is in the “Civil Engineering” group of careers, with plumbers and carpenters and HVAC guys (to name a few), and most of us trained at 366 Training Squadron at Sheppard AFB in Wichita Falls, TX.
A tremendous part of why I picked 3E0X1 over the other career fields I was presented with was because the sheet with the training descriptions listed the school at 8 weeks. I was like “Fuck yes, eight weeks is some easy-ass bullshit.” But I should have known that the type-written sheet with the descriptions of training were out of date by the fact that they were type-written. Even in 1998, that wasn’t really a common thing.
Turns out the school was 28 weeks long, one of the longest in the Air Force. It had only been recently expanded. Since it was easier to get the time first and the training in place later, versus the other way around, a lot of the later “blocks” of training were just three days of us sitting around bullshitting with our instructors.
That’s neither here nor there, however. A lot of people, myself included, thought that once basic training was over, we’d be treated like humans again and enjoy human things. But that was way off the mark. Tech school in the Air Force means you still march all over the stupid place, you still wear your uniform 24 hours a day (at first), you abide by a curfew, you pretend to jog every morning (0330, to beat the heat!) and you couldn’t leave the base until you earned Phase 3, which was part of the Phase program of privileges you earned for time plus good behavior. Kind of like a minimum security prison.
The bullshit thing about the Phase program was that you still had a curfew until Phase 5. When you hit Phase 5 you were almost fully restored to human status again. But just to qualify you had to be there for several months. Which was super dumb when you realized that people with 6-week schools graduated into the actual Air Force and enjoyed a level of freedom some of their peers wouldn’t enjoy for another 6 months. It was like you were being punished for doing a job that required training. In other words, you were better off picking a retarded job like fuels systems delivery than a job for smart people.
One of the dumbest things about being in tech school was that we all still enjoyed a level of punishment based on the actions of a few. That sort of thing works in a small unit in basic training, where there are 60 people and if some of them are fucking up, you can right their wrongs. But 366 TRS had like 600 shitty fucking dirtbags ruining it for everyone. And we all had to suffer.
My favorite example was the day we were all getting out of classes early for the promotion ceremony of our commander. She was a squat, useless officer who somehow finagled her way into a promotion to captain despite the fact that she was in clear violation of fitness standards. In other words, she was fat.
All of us were excited. Squadron pride was rampant that day. As we approached our dormitory, we began our squadron cadence.
"SQUADRON CADENCE! DELAYED CADENCE! COUNT CADENCE, COOUNT, OOOH OOOH OH OHH, THREE (can’t hear you!) SIX! (a little louder!) SIX! (come on talk to me now!) A-OOH! (come on, bring it on down!) THREE SIX SIX, A-OOH! THREE SIX SIX, A-OOH! MEAN! MA…CHINE! (six six!) A-OOOOH!"
This was all accompanied by timed stomps and just mad fucking pride. They were always after us for lack of pride, and letting a bunch of young 20-somethings out of school early was a great way to pump everyone up.
The lieutenant got her promotion to captain and we did squadron cadence again and the air was just crackling with energy. We were just super pumped up, all of us, and feeling a sense of pride and happiness for the captain and her fresh promotion. She stood on the stage-like thing the training leaders stood on and looked over her entire squadron, all of us, and it seemed like she felt enormous pride, as well.
After a beat or two had passed, she said one word:
"LOCKDOWN," and left the fucking stand like Chris Rock dropping the fucking mic.
Lockdown means everyone is phase 1. No leaving the base for anyone. Uniforms 24/7. Room inspections were ramped the fuck up. Any of us who had gained back some of our humanity through the arbitrary phase system saw it evaporate in what felt like an enormous betrayal. It was a deception. She took her cheers and absorbed our energy and made her bullshit promotion special, then turned around and shit all over us.
She waddled away and we all stood there in shock and disbelief. She couldn’t have put us on lockdown BEFORE her promotion ceremony? Of course not. That would have diminished her solitary experience. It may have made us less excited. We were, after all, only there for her behalf. So once she got what she wanted, she sprung the lockdown announcement. It was win/win/win for her. She was able to feel our adulation, then exercise her powers as an officer arbitrarily, and still go home and eat a big bowl of whatever the fuck she was constantly eating to get that fat.
I dealt with a lot of really good people when I was in the Air Force. A lot of people who are genuinely good, not just as humans, but as assets to our national defense. But I also got to experience some of the shittiest leadership I have ever seen. In fact, I would say that the break down of enlisted people I served with were 90% good people, 10% opportunistic shit bags, while the officers I served under had that number flipped.
I have so many other stories about terrible leadership. I already told the one on this blog about when our commander literally wasted over 400 man hours in one morning just to keep people from going to breakfast after commander’s call. Look for it.
I feel kind of bad when this question gets lobbed at me. I mean, I’m glad people ask, and I’m happy to share what I can! But it is so hard to make a living writing about games, and it’s only getting harder. I feel like a fraud when I say, “Yeah! Here’s what you…
tumblr is a lousy place to put original content, or at least content you captured. The most popular tumblrs don’t create anything, they just reblog what other people have made. This is like a real-life tumblr situation.
America in Crisis: Understanding the Shut Down, Obamacare, and What it Means
Many of us are surfing the internet today, too frightened to step outside into an America where the government has ceased to operate. It’s a wonder the internet works at all, but it has more to do with timing. The office of Internet was locked up before anyone could go in and shut the Internet off.
So what, exactly, is happening today, and more importantly, how will it negatively impact your life? It’s really simple. House Republicans are holding America hostage because they truly hate all but the richest, whitest, most-penis-having people. Democrats recognize that the GOP is composed entirely of undead wraiths whose black breath wisps from their leathery lips only to curse the living.
These paragons of virtue, the Democrats, are in stark opposition to the Republicans in their support of Obamacare, or the “Affordable Care Act.” Up until midnight, October 1st, healthcare was denied to all but the wealthiest Americans in the name of greed. When Obamacare went into effect, the era of the greedy practices of insurance companies came to a close. Now, if an insurance company wants to make money, they can only do do by providing just, equitable, fair, cheap, and most importantly, high-quality healthcare without limits.
Republicans, on the other hand, know that Obamacare is the true evil. They could not explain to you why it is bad, because of its complexity, or how simple laws of economics can be bent to its will. It doesn’t matter though. The simple answer for the GOP is that Obamacare is bad because it is bad. They hate healthy people. Healthy people generally eat better, which hurts their interests in fast food or MONSANTO. Healthy people tend not to smoke, which hurts their financial interests in Phillip Morris and other companies that peddle death.
Conversely, the Democrats know the law is good because it is intended to help people. Helping people is good and intent to help is the next best thing, because good intentions are the first step toward good actions. A healthy America is a prosperous America, and the first step toward a healthy America is making sure all Americans can get healthy. And the Affordable Care Act guarantees unlimited supplies of healthcare options at prices anyone could afford. Truly, we live in a post-scarcity world.
The government shut down is how the GOP is protesting the law they don’t understand. It can be scary to think of all the people who, on the first day of October, 2013, were denied entrance into the National Parks system, or whose beef is no longer under the watchful eye of the USDA. But the potential food poisoning cases will be covered (by law!) under the Affordable Care Act.
The Democrats are showing just how important government is to the economy by closing the doors to offices that regulate key industries. No regulatory office means no business. Will airplanes fall from the sky? Unlikely. But if they do, blame rests squarely on the heads of those that caused the mess in the first place, which is the American voting public. Generally easy to fool, the American public has shown time and time again that it doesn’t actually care about real issues as much as it cares about which candidate will help them justify to themselves how the other side is evil for wanting different free stuff than they want.
I’ve started a Kickstarter. It’s to fund a book. I’ve really been into the idea of showing the “real” Maine since I decided to cut behind some buildings in Rockland, Maine one day. Rockland is always in those “quaint places to live” or “Ten best towns to raise a family,” and as such, its main street is quite picturesque. Cute boutiques and modern eateries have taken to the buildings that once housed less tourist friendly businesses. You can no longer buy dildos on main street in Rockland, but you can get a $30 t-shirt.
On that day I took a shortcut, I was struck by how much more interesting main street was from just behind it. Old, faded brick buildings with pipes and wires and meters and peeling paint. The reality of commerce and the age of the buildings is right there, just a few steps from the cozy, quaint anytown USA feel.
The Maine I grew up in is not like the Maine I see in magazines like Maine or Down East. There is nothing wrong with those magazines. They show off a fashionable side of Maine that needs to be shown. But no one is bothering to show off the Maine I know. The Maine I grew up in. I’m hoping my Kickstarter will get funded so I can show off this Maine that only Mainers know.
Here’s the link. Please help me by pledging funds and/or sharing the project.
What’re you going to do NOW? Geez Louise, what a predicament! How could this have happened?
You got friend zoned because the other person doesn’t find you attractive. It is entirely your fault. Learn from your mistakes.
The first boner you pulled was probably mistaking being a push-over for being a nice guy. You get a positive reaction from doing nice things. People appreciate having something nice done for them. Yes, thanks, I do need a shoulder to cry on. Man, what would I do without someone as nice as you? Then you crank up the niceness. You think “I’ma get hella nice up in this motherfucker” and you’re buying stuffed animals and giving all types of hugs.
Being nice is awesome. More people should be nice. Ah, but what the fuck? How did being nice get you into the friend zone if being nice is such a desirable trait?
Because you are too much of a pussy.
You didn’t state your intentions clearly, at the beginning of the relationship you now have. You never said “Hey, I think it’d be fun if we went to see a movie/get coffee/do whatever it is people do when they try to start a romantic relationship.” Instead you were too scared to be direct and you just approached the situation like a nice, friendly person. See that part? Friendly? The root word of “friendly” is FRIEND.
Not to say you shouldn’t be friendly in your romantic pursuits. But you need to make it clear from the start. If you mealy-mouth your way into someone’s life by just being the nicest guy ever, you will be THE NICEST GUY EVER. It’s the only logical conclusion a person could reach given the information at hand. “Wow. This guy is so super nice. I like how nice a friend he is. It’s so nice to have a guy friend who doesn’t want to just have sex with me, but genuinely wants to be a nice friendly nice nice friend friend nice.”
It’s all your fault. When the object of your desires says “Why couldn’t I just meet someone nice?” and in your head you’re thinking “I’m nice! You say it all the time! Pick me, pick me!” but aloud you say “You’ll be with someone nice someday. Let me rub your feet,” and then you buy them an edible arrangement to soothe their broken heart, you are being so fucking nice that the other person can’t believe how fucking LUCKY they are to have a friend who is JUST THE NICEST.
But you’re deceiving your friend because really, you want to have a romantic relationship with them but you have never been forthcoming about it.
Now you’re friends, and the other person totally trusts you. Guess what? That movie you saw about the friends, who couldn’t find love but then they were like “Oh my God, it was here all along!” and they’re probably standing in the rain or some shit and then they just full-on make-out… that was a movie written by some dipshit writers who are projecting their friend-zone fantasy onto the screen. The friend zone is deep and lasting. When it ends, it will not end with a romantic hook up. It will end badly.
See, the whole time you’ve been friends, you’ve been hiding from this person that you really are just 100% in love with them. The other person, again lacking this extremely crucial piece of information, has trusted you AS A FRIEND. They consider you a friend because of all the friendly shit you do.
If you now decide to confess to this person your love, you are such an idiot. They will feel betrayed and most definitely won’t realize you were the nice guy they were looking for all along. No Sarah McLaughlin song will play. And you are exposed as a complete fraud.
The moral of the story is be clear from the onset with your intentions and be comfortable with the idea of rejection. Don’t believe what movies and television are trying to sell you. Nice guys finish first when they’re genuine and forthcoming.
Tiny ship is there, with Princess on the ship. Followed by it is giant ship from Impire. Blast with lazers!
Away makes CBot and R12Cannister to desert planet of Tantoonie. Yawan capture the bots to make into sales for farmers.
It is now we meet the long young Skymark, Lucas. He buys bots for his farming and now R12 has message!
It’s beautiful Princess. “Helps to us, Onwan! Helps?” is the message.
Onwan lives in desert too, but Lucas knows him only as “Yen.”
To Most Icely they travel to meet Yan Solo and his space companion Manbacca.
"Is ship goes fast?" Onwan says. Yan laughs to him.
"Is going most fast," he says. They take ship to away, but a moon appears!
"Is no moon," Onwan requires. The Impire is captured them! Its moon is really space world, made by Impire.
Inside the Space World, Dar Weeder is talking to Princess. “Give the plans, and no one else!” he implies. She says no to that.
Now Onwan is walking around on Space World and Lucas, Yan, Manbacca and the Bots also. There is much tension when they fall into garbage room! No one is hurt.
With the Princess is many adventures. Also Lucas is learned of FORCE. Dar Weeder cuts Onwan with life sabre and is lost forever. He is of BLACK FORCE, which has curses.
But foolish is the Impire when they plans are used against them! Lucas finds in him Force, which he uses for missile to shoot. Only one place on whole of Space World is where weakness inhabits, and Force gets Lucas to find it!
Many celebrations as Yan, Manbacca, and Lucas are given each a sceptre and a metal to wear on their chains. Princess smiles at them. CBot and R12Cannister are also the heroes of that day.