Author Archives: anotherintro

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About anotherintro

Jane-Rebecca Cannarella is an editor at HOOT Review, a cat lady, and a Nutella enthusiast. When not poorly playing the piano, she chronicles the many ways that she embarrasses herself at the website www.youlifeisnotsogreat.com. She occasionally drinks wine out of a mug that has a smug poodle on it, and she’s not great at writing in the third person.

I see your true colors shining!

I find the best way to deal with condescending former managers is to internet stalk them and create something beautiful out of whatever it is I find online. In that theme, I bring you:

Your true colors True colors are beautiful, Like a rainbow

Your true colors
True colors are beautiful,
Like a rainbow

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Filed under horrible bosses, work

Love me like you do

what're you waiting for?

what’re you waiting for?

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Filed under pizza

One of these things is not like the other

At the end of the work day my energy is sucked dry and I’m left a shallow husk of a person.

me at 5PM

me at 5PM

To compensate (and more accurately, self-medicate) I like to drink box wine and watch music videos on YouTube endlessly until I eventually fall asleep watching Law & Order: UK

law and order uk

because all of the episodes are free on YouTube.

While I have a great affinity for pop music from the late 90s and early 2000’s, I am pretty confused about YouTube’s recent suggestion for me. Because one these things is not like the other:

Enter the Dragon

Enter the Dragon

Is this some media push by YouTube to make Sisqo relevant again? Because I’m only into Dru Hill era Sisqo; I hate thongs. Though, to be fair, I did listen to this once the recommendation was made. You win this time, Sisqo.

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Filed under music

Fuck those judgmental numbered lists (you know the ones)

double bird
The Internet is a fantastic place to be reminded how horribly shit you’re doing in life. From the scads of personal achievement lifestyle blogs, to the endless Pinterest boards full of crafts that you’ll never ever actually do – it’s a daily reminder that whatever successes you’ve seen while you go around the sun are never good enough.
homer eff
Nothing is a stronger reminder of your personal failures than the scores of numbered lists reminding you that your high school guidance counselor was right: you’ll never live up to your potential.
dissapoint gif
Like this right here ensuring that no matter what milestone you’re proud of, you should truly feel like a loser if you can’t tick off these from their condescending advice. I have a massive amount of tattoos, so I’m totally boned.
photo (7)
How about this insane list that suggests by the time you’re twenty-five you should be done experimenting with your hair cuts? And God motherfucking forbid you have a bad one night stand after twenty-five! You should be able to determine before you have sex with a person that you’re either going to stay with them forever, or use your magical brain powers to determine that they’ll be a jaguar in the sac.
lucille eyeroll
Or what about this mess of an eye-roll clickbait piece that made me want to stab my brain’s frontal cortex? This one says that by the time you’re thirty you should have learned when to love and when to walk away – like the relationship version of Kenny Roger’s “The Gambler.”
fea_kennyrogers
I honestly hate read these two pieces of absolute bullshit which said that women in their thirties can’t own or wear the following: band posters, beat up sneakers, personal game systems, fuckin’ HAMSTERS, blue eye shadow, leopard print, and oversized glasses.
pac eff

I made it halfway through a list about things that people in their thirties shouldn’t do anymore, but spat at my computer screen after reading something about waiting to take the trash out. Honestly?

So I made an alternate list, it has numbers alongside so you know it’s legitimate. It’s a numbered list of all of the reasons those other lists are such bullshit.

  • 36. Those lists exist as nothing more than clickbait, which I am sure is obvious. But having worked writing web content I can confidently say that bulleted and numbered lists are the easiest way to finish an assignment without having to expend energy on fully recognized ideas. Numbered lists are easy to read, send an immediate message, and – more importantly for the copywriter – easy to write. Add a flashy title along with a halfcocked idea, and all of the sudden our shitty article is getting re-posted everywhere. Also, add gifs
    Ugh
  • 45. They almost universally exclude the existence of class, intersexuality, people who are disabled, the trans community, and PoC. These articles come from such a point of hilarious privilege (THROW AWAY YOUR SHITTY OLD SNEAKERS, YOU SCUMBAG) that they’re basically the definition of microaggressions. I’ve never read a single one where it doesn’t read like it is coming from a single, straight, white, middleclass person.   Additionally, they are so antithetical in regards to even basic feminism, or the existence thereof, that one of those jammers actually said that by the time you’re twenty-five you shouldn’t have a pregnancy scare. What the fuck? Seriously?
    prince shade
  • 13. They pit people against each other and make you feel bad about yourself. There is already plenty of competition, unnecessary flaming, and animosity on the Internet that the proliferation of MORE shit that makes you feel like you’re unsuccessful is completely unnecessary. Reddit, exists you guys, let’s pack it up.
    kristen
  • 6. Lets just all admit that they’re terribly written.
    writing gif
  • 26. They are completely arbitrary.
    blanche-devereaux-side-eye
  • 86. You don’t need a nameless mergatroid on the Internet determining what does and doesn’t make a successful life, no matter what your age is. You just don’t. You’ve got this life shit figured out. A list on the Internet knows nothing about you: what you like, the things you’ve overcome, how good a friend you are, how good a person you are, that you make the dankest cupcakes in the apartment complex, that you just adopted a pet in need, or that you taught your kid not to be an asshole.  You have life figured out even if you enjoy clubbing at forty-five and still have “flatmates” when you’re sixty.
    boss beyonce

Here is my list of suggestions. But I’m not going to number them.

Wear whatever you want. However old you are. No matter what. No one should tell you what to wear, no matter your age, race, class, abilities, or gender. You like wearing sparkly butterfly clips in your hair? Dope. Yesterday I wore a torn-up tutu over an Adventure Time bathing suit to the bar. I’m thirty now and I’ll wear that till I’m one hundred and thirty.
photo (8)

Celebrate whatever milestone actually makes you happy. When I was sixteen my best friend and I decided it was Happy Lisa Frank Day. We poured glitter over our face and hair, and stuck Lisa Frank stickers on lockers and handed them out to students and teachers. It was one of the greatest days of my life.  My best friend and I got faux married when we were twenty-three. There was a professional photographer and vows written on the back of Wawa receipts. I’ll cherish that day until I’m dust. Both of those days were days of great achievement for me. But neither are on any list that I can think of.
vows

Eat what makes you feel good. Today I ate pasta, pizza, and candy. I’m going to drink mad beer tonight because it was a hard day at work. I’ll probably have a hangover tomorrow. But I’ll still go to work and do my job. The only person that gets to tell you what you should eat, drink, and indulge in is you. If drinking Mountain Dew and eating Funions is your thing? Enjoy. Want to eat only kale and corn chips? God bless.
candy

Do you. Or don’t, whatever you want. The other day while talking to my mom on the phone she said the following, “Every person is a genius these days. So who cares? Everyone should just do what they want.” Straight from the funniest person I know. You’re a genius. My mom just said. Don’t listen to shitty lists telling you that you should wear this, have accomplished that, or that you need to change your you. You’re a genius. Fuck those lists.
you got this
(All gifs other than the ones of my face and friends are owned and credited to their makers. I did not create them, they’re just boss). 

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Filed under my prerogative

Facebook ad targeting: the desolation of Janie

According to five minutes of internet research (actually it was twenty because I got distracted when I found that there was such a thing as an Archie Comics Twitter – what?!?!) I am a victim of Facebook ad targeting. And not in a nice way.

The d-bags at Facebook, who so recently told me I have no friends, have found a new way to demoralize me with their targeted attacks. Like, say, when you’re trying to mass-eat pretzels and chug down dollar wine with your best friends while catching up on Empire only to see that THIS is what Facebook thinks is most relevant to you based on advertisers (quote straight from the Facebook gods’ mouths):

Get[ting] the most value from your ad spend by reaching only the people that matter to you

Honestly...should I just end it? THANKS, THE INTERNET!

Honestly…should I just end it? THANKS, THE INTERNET!

According to ad-space buyers and Facebook’s internet algorithms, the best ad choices for me only have to do with Walmart, cats, and litter.

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Filed under cats, horrifying

#mydunkin is always bleak

I really appreciate how Dunkin Donuts encourages their patrons to share various Dunkin-related stories. Historically it’s always worked out well for me (see here and here) and I’m glad that the organization cares so much about my welfare and general habits to inquire about #mydunkin.

My story involves being an office temp at a job where I get to watch the full-time employees enjoy perks such as the boss bringing in a cardboard gallon of Dunkin Donuts coffee for them. And after, when the full-time employees are throwing a party with a specific note on the door that says “FULL-TIME EMPLOYEES ONLY” I decided to take several of the unused Dunkin cups, go into the secret party room filled with food and paid sick leave, and filled them with mac n cheese. So I guess #mydunkin involves pilfering food and cups from my office superiors and hiding at my temporary desk while eating it.

#mydunkin arrives in my tummy through swindling and shame!

#mydunkin arrives in my tummy through swindling and shame

I also stole the spoon

I also stole the spoon

 

 

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Filed under broke, food, Uncategorized, work

The candy angels descend from on high

Considering that my diet consists almost exclusively of colors and numbers magically scienced into being, I find it shocking that I was ignorant of the greatest candy development of the last generation.

I had a feeling that there was a deep void in my life that needed filling (hot), and it must have been an extensional longing for this – the most glorious, and meta, of sugary creations. Finally a wise and benevolent candy angel took the time to think upon what was missing from candy. And this is what he came up with:

dessert Skittles

dessert Skittles

How could I have been so unaware of this? I was under this blind impression that candy WAS a dessert, and, fuck me, was I wrong. There is nothing more delightful and repugnant as a Skittle that somehow (through Skittle magic science) also tastes like a blueberry tart.

Thank you, Skittles. You are a kindly company looking out for the nutritionally negligent and creating great feats of candy-dessert achievements. Holy holy holy!

 

 

 

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Filed under cooking, food

Slick burn, Facebook

Well played, FB

ZING!

No one. You know no one on the Internet

Zing!

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Filed under science! technology!, Uncategorized

So this is the week after Christmas, and what have you done?

Nothing.

Pretty much nothing.

The holiday season is when we allow an elderly man that lives as a recluse to break into our homes. I dare anyone to look at these two iterations of Santa and wonder who wouldn’t feel totally terrified of this man? So much red. Redrum.

the holiday horror.

the holiday horror show that are these depictions of Santa at the medical supply store near my old apartment. Make sure you’re healthy before Santa attacks you and forever haunts your nightmares.

It doesn’t help that every year that my friends and I get photographed with Santa he somehow finds a way to inappropriately touch me (see). Leading to this joyful Christmas joke:

Hilarious.

Hilarious.

Which is why it makes total sense that my beloved, and miserable, cat George decided that Christmas was the perfect time to die. He had no time for candy canes, or laughing babies, or the inappropriate sexual advances of Santa. “Fuck it,” he thought. “I’m just going to die instead.”

I feel ya, George

I feel ya, George

Though there are always bright spots, like this Vonnegut fan at the local Wawa giving all customers this Christmas miracle.

Is that the star that the Wise Men followed?

Is that the star that the Wise Men followed?

And of course there is also when your friend knows you so well that she makes you into a Christmas .gif depicting you as a cheerful Christmas elf that you so truly are. Or at least you drinking.

Drinking till the New Year.

Drinking till the New Year.

Glad that you’ve all survived the holiday season. I’ll see you in the New Year where we can start our plan to kill Santa.

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Filed under Booze, cats, friends, Holidays

Before The Trip To Belize

I kind of bailed on Fan Fiction, huh? Well, here is a grand return to Fan Fiction of Failure. It features the fictioning of Breaking Bad by Emerson student Jenna Danoy, the soothing vocals of our favorite Anthony J, and the hasty artwork of The Law Offices of Van Noss².

Welcome to the most uncomfortable Fan Fiction yet.


BB-explore-S4-980x551-clean

The moment Jesse, battered and broken, finished with their most recent batch, Walt took him in his arms.
“Good job, Jesse,” Walt said, stroking Jesse’s face with a tender thumb. He pressed his erection, which had been growing as he watched Jesse cook, against the younger man’s back. “I’m…very proud of you.”
Jesse turned around to face him. Walt noticed that his crystal blue eyes that matched the meth were full of tears.
“You’ve never said that before,” Jesse said, his rough voice cracking over the syllables the way he had just cracked the sheet of meth into a million little crystals.
The sincerity aroused Walt. He felt himself stirring, beneath his tighty-whities, and he took Jesse’s face in his hands.
“What do we do now?” Jesse asked, slipping his hand over Walt’s wrinkled one.
“Isn’t it obvious?” Walt breathed.

Bios:
Jenna Danoy is a senior Writing, Literature & Publishing major at Emerson College. In addition to giving voice to Walter White’s deepest, darkest dreams, she enjoys baked goods, crafty television dramas, writing (good) short fiction, and iced green tea. Her short fiction has been published in Concrete Literary Magazine, and one of her plays was produced for the stage in high school. Hang out with her on Twitter @jenna_danoy
Anthony J never provides a bio but he’s got a bangin’ voice
The Law Offices of Van Noss² still hasn’t recovered from the end of Breaking Bad

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Filed under art, fan fiction, horrifying, tv