Today I just had this urge to view my devianart inboxto see whether I had any new things. To my dissappointment, the number of messages were still the same--22.
Sighing resignedly, I decided to open it anyway for fun. I looked into the "favourites" section... and blinked.
My newest poem, "Friend" got favourited. Hereis the message, quoted from the notice:
~deviouslili has added Friend to their favourites. Nov 25, 2007, 7:44 AM
And I had posted it only last night.
I rubbed my eyes to make sure it wasn't some sortof delusion and squinted at the notice. It was true! My poem had been favourited.
Excuse the usual screams of excitement.
KYAAA! OMGOMGOMGOMFG KYAAA! AHH! OMG I GOT FAVOURITED!!!!
And I'm only
12 13(Geez, I keep forgetting I'm not 12 anymore).
But for no reason, I find 13 sounding incredibly old. Ah well.
Found this on the internet. Another reason why I hate men. Italiac comments are made by me.
"Good Wife guide in 1955"
The Good Wife's Guide:( 1955 )- Have dinner ready. Plan ahead, even the night before, to have a delicious meal ready, on time for his return. This is a way of letting him know that you have been thinking about him and are concerned about his needs. Most men are hungry when they come home and the prospect of a good meal (especially his favourite dish) is part of the warm welcome needed.
Fine. But I stink at cooking. And besides, who says I'm gonna have so much time? I also have a career, dumbass, and I may earn so much more than you, complain and I shall sue yopu for half your assets.- Prepare yourself. Take 15 minutes to rest so you'll be refreshed when he arrives. Touch up your makeup, put a ribbon in your hair and be fresh looking. He has just been with a lot of work-weary people.
What are we, showgirls?- Be a little gay and a little more interesting for him. His boring day may need a lift and one of your duties is to provide it.
Define 'interesting'. Hang on...duties? *smirks* Okay, then I shall set a deadly series of tras alongf the corridor and say it's entertainment. If he dies, he's not competemt enough. Boo-hoo.- Clear away the clutter. Make one last trip through the main part of the house just before your husband arrives.
Wah, who is he, VIP? President of Singapore? Need I bow and kneel and ketow to him before I offer my services? You want that, go to a hotel. And don't get married to me, cos I will make your life hell.- Gather up schoolbooks, toys, paper etc and then run a dustcloth over the tables.
- Over the cooler months of the year you should prepare and light a fire for him to unwind by. Your husband will feel he has reached a haven of rest and order, and it will give you a lift too. After all, catering for his comfort will provide you with immense personal satisfaction.
...not when I have a mountain of paperwork to do.- Prepare the children. Take afew minutes to wash the children's hands and faces (if they are small), comb their hair and, if necessary, change their clothes. They are little treasures and he would like to see them playing the part. Minimise all noise. At the time of his arrival, eliminate all noise of the washer, dryer or vacuum. Try to encourage the children to be quiet.
You want a quiet place, go to the graveyard. Even better, I'll send you there myself.*saccharine smile* I'd rather it be lively and cheerful, thank you very much.- Be happy to see him.Only if he's happy to see me.- Greet him with a warm smile and show sincerity in your desire to please him.
- Listen to him. You may have a dozen important things to tell him, but the moment of his arrival is not the time. Let him talk first - remember, his topics of conversation are more important than yours.
Quite fair in the 1950s I guess, as housewives can only talk about the increase of prices of vegetables or something as mind-numbingly mundane. HIS topics are more important? What would he talk about, hot girls and bikinis? What if I want to discuss the removal of the law allowing gays in Singapore? Is that unimportant?- Make the evening his. Never complain if he comes home late or goes out to dinner, or other places of entertainment without you. Instead, try to understand his world of strain and pressure and his very real need to be at home and relax.
Then what about MY world filled with puerile beings and utter boredom? Goes out to dinner without me and comes home late, and not complain? His world more pressurised than mine? We women are not simpletons! Okay, I won't complain, as I will be too busy planning apainful torture or debating what special death-inducing ingredient I can add to your meal...- Your goal: Try to make sure your home is a place of peace, order and tranquillity where you husband can renew himselfs in body and spirit.
Go to a spa. That's what it's for.- Dont greet him with complaints and problems.
Okay, so if a thief comes in and steals everything, I'll just keep quiet and leave him to sleep on the cold stone floor.- Dont complain if he's late home for dinner or even if he stays out all night. Count this as minor compared to what he might have gone through the day.
What about me? What if he's unemployed?- Make him comfortable, Have him lean back in a comfortable chair or have him lie down in the bedroom. Have a cool or warm drink ready for him.
- Arrange his pillow and offer to take off his shoes. Speak in a low, soothing and pleasant voice.
*plans a slow and painful death for whoever who imposed these demandson women, if he isn't dead yet*- Dont ask him questions about his actions or question his judgement or integrity. Remember, he is the master of the house and as such will always excercise his will with fairness and truthfulness. You have no right to question him.
WTBMFH?!!!! Yeah right. What if he cheats with another? Am I supposed to be his automatic robot and greet him nicely. No way, buster. Divorce, and I want your death as payment. And all your assets, as well aspublic humiliation. No right to question him...I'll give him no rights in high court!- A good wife always know her place.
Well, GO FUCK YOURSELF IN HELL AND STAY THERE. Enjoy your stay with satan.Another reason I am not gonna be married, not that anyone wants me anyway, thank God.
