Today we spent roughly an hour of my life discussing attachment types.
According to the piece of paper handed out by Rob, our TA, there are four attachment styles exhibited by adults.
Secure attachment. You love people, and you love yourself (yay!).
Anxious- Preoccupied attachment. You love people, but you may not necessarily be so fond of yourself (cheer up sad clown).
Dismissive-avoidance attachment. People piss you off, but hey! At least you love yourself (conceited much?).
Fearful-avoidance attachment. People don’t really seem to like you, and you don’t seem to like people (maybe you’re a bitch?).
Anyways, after determining where we fell (I fell into the anxious preoccupied category) and where our close family members fell, our TA had the brilliant idea to clump celebrities into these grayish, blurry, not-at-all cut and dry categories.
Sandra Bullock was an obvious choice for the secure attachment. She basically rocks at life. After mastering magic and being Nicole Kidman’s hot nerdy sister she wins an oscar while dealing with a worthless husband who likes sexing prostitutes! Not to mention she’s forty-seven, and I’d still lez out with her. We love you Sandra, especially in Speed! Girl, you worked that chestnut bob!
Jennifer Aniston edged out in front of Blake Lively for the dismissive avoidance award. Yes, Jen singlehandedly made “The Rachel” the most iconic hairstyle of the late 90’s (docs with socks anyone?) and early 2000’s, but her disheartening breakup with Brad Pitt (the things I would do to him in Thelma and Louise!) led to a string of rather ephemeral affairs and tabloid buzz. All the while giving off this feeling (at least to a bunch of professional college students) of “wow, the world sucks.” Keep on trucking Jen, I secretly love you, and you were my second favorite character in Friends behind Phoebe. OH! Also when you had that sex scene with Jake Gyllenhaal in “The Good Girl” well…yeah I may have seen that once or twice. Don’t worry Jen; I watched it for him.
Enter Taylor Swift. We felt as though Taylor swift was the queen of anxious preoccupied attachment, or maybe she just has syphilis? The world will never really know. What we have gathered, and this is based on extensive research, is that her relationships with men…well… suck. The way the tabloids portray her (and don’t worry Taylor, the song Mine is possibly the greatest, most sickeningly cute thing ever) Taylor is a chipmunk looking for a squirrel to share his nuts with her. Data suggests that Taylor Swift does in fact have a borderline obsessive compulsion towards nuts. I’m pretty sure it’s just a phase. If not, she can always write a song about it!
I don’t honestly remember, but I think we decided on Kim Kardashian as our patron saint of fearful-avoidance. By “we” I mostly mean these two girls that by some astronomical alignment both happened to be in my group and both happened to have really good hair. I don’t know anything about Kim Kardashian save for the fact that guys masturbate to her picture. Speaking of which…pictures?! Really? It could just be me, but I’ve always thought videos or stories were way more stimulating. That’s enough about Kim, she doesn’t deserve anymore space in this blog as I’m unaware of her contributions to society and well…life in general.
I’m in a fraternity. I think it’s great that my brothers are cool with the fact that I’m gay.
We have rushes (rushes=n00bz that have not necessarily been let into the fraternity yet). We also have a scholarship we gave away. The guy that won the scholarship is HOT. He’s not rushing. I’m allowed to continue thinking he’s hot.
I say this because I cannot think of my brothers sexually. At all. In any way shape or form. That’s just friggin weird.
Stay classy Net.
Yours in Feng Shui,
Enter the tumblr saga.
I don’t really know what the point of tumblr is, but it seems like fun. Hopefully it doesn’t consume my life the way it has certain friends of mine, but hey, phases are healthy and normal.
Today is the superbowl. Normally I’m all for boys in tight pants touching each other, and rolling around, and flexing, and catching…anyway football just doesn’t do it for me. In all reality I’ll probably sit on my friends bed playing online scrabble and listening to the Coyote Ugly soundtrack while i think about boys…and cars…and drinks at bars.
Today in the dining hall, they had cookies shaped like footballs…they were disgusting, but that’s okay. I think it’s cute when the kitchen staff tries to do adorable things for us.
Yesterday I had a sex dream about one of my floor mates…he’s kinda hot, and funny drunk.