That Moment...

TMW...your stupid comments in another forum made you look like an asshole for making straw man arguments.

Dear self:

You went to college. You know how to think. Why can't you do that when you post?

- yourself

 

In that same vein --

TMW your friend participates in a (very typical) bikini/wet T-Shirt contest where men vote on who has the hottest body. This is all in an effort to raise awareness to domestic violence toward women.

So, the point here is to reduce women to objects in order to raise awareness for an epidemic in which women are reduced to objects? How is the irony lost on anyone, here?

 

TMW you realize that the 2016 elections are going to take place after your eighteenth birthday.

 

TMW...

You realize that November 2016 is the big elections to elect the new US president. Crap, time flies.

TMW...

You've no idea whose campaigning for the office.

 

Link the Writer: YOU'RE FIRED.

 

What the actual fuck!?

 

From what?

 

It was a hint as to who is campaigning.

 

I don't even know what you're talking about.

 

So bad it's good? Or maybe it's so bad that it eclipses the limit of badness that can still be considered good and enters an entirely hitherto unknown region that is neither bad nor good but undeniably awe inspiring?

 

Pics or it didn't happen.

 

TMW

Spoiler: If you love someone...

 

TMW you're left wondering if someone just winked at you when you greeted them or if they suffered an involuntary muscle twitch.

I think this is what happened:

** At an important wet t-shirt competition meeting **

"Guys, gals, we have a problem. I just received a threat from this local women's rights branch TMNG--"
"TMNG?"
"Teach Men Not To Gape. It's an anti woman objectification non-profit."
"Uh, ok. Go on."
"Yeah, so anyway, they threaten to come and protest against Best Wet Boobs 2015 if we hold the competition this year. That's gonna suck all the fun out of it, to be honest, and they could scare away our sponsors. Plus, they're gonna launch a Twitter campaign against us. They'll drag us through the mud! How can we stop them?"
"Can't you just tell them no one's forcing those women to participate. This is a free country, dammit."
"I don't think that's gonna work. Any other ideas?"
"Well... we could say we're doing it for a good cause. Something every feminist will get behind..."
"Violence against women!"
"Yes, perfect! We'll do it to raise awareness to domestic violence toward women. If angry feminists show up, they'll look like they're protesting against protecting women from violence."
"Brilliant!"

*lots of back-patting follows*

Oh, they knew what they were doing. They knew.

 

^ Some people honestly don't see the irony in what they're doing.

TMW...

You don't have a 'That moment'...moment.

 

That moment when you feel deeply embarrassed on behalf of a complete stranger.

 

TMW...

You read the TV trope articles 'Wallbanger' and 'DethroningMomentofSuck' for Harry Potter and realize, 'Christ, Rowling! Did you not see what you were writing?!'

 

TMW you experience something visceral

http://www.sbs.com.au/news/article/2015/07/29/entire-school-performs-powerful-haka-teachers-funeral

 

TMW you realize that you're not a fiction writer, but you're pretty damn good at non-fiction, and you wonder why the hell you're killing yourself trying to write fiction when it's just ... not you.

 

So whatcha gonna do? The drive thru thing was fun - not strictly fictional but you should definitely be writing something coz the world needs soooo much more laughter and your writing brings the mirth.

 

That moment when you realise it wasn't a fart.

 

TMW you decide that you're not a fiction writer, and you eschew your Harvard law school scholarship in order to find your true being and you ditch almost all of your belongings and don't tell your family where you're going and you head west and you do various odd end jobs to earn food money and you feel like you're actually living and you visit Mexico for a while and you continue to think you haven't found whatever you're looking for and you decide to head into the wilderness of Alaska and the moment before you die of starvation you realize what you were looking for is something you had given up voluntarily.

FIN

 

Are you, perchance, talking about Chris McCandleless? The guy who basically quit his family and life, went up to Alaska and died of starvation in a bus on the Stampede Trail in 1992? Thinking he was going to be like Thoreau?

 

Either I was talking about Chris McCandless or I was talking about my current WIP titled Into The Wiled featuring an enigmatic main character named Lewis McSandless, and you'll never know which one is true!

 

TMW you run out of beer ...

Guess it's time for a vulgar Barcardi and lemonade.

 

TMW you've written probably over a hundred pages this summer, but the only completed drafts of any length you're likely to finish with are a ~16,000 word novelette that might go somewhere and a ~ 6,600 word short story that's never going to leave your DropBox folder.