family togetherness, my ass.

It’s taken me a few months but I think I’ve finally learnt my lesson:

Never, ever show anything of particular interest (to me, anyway) to my parents. If they don’t like it, they’re just going to spoil it. Every. Single. Time.

The one particular sentence I can’t stand is the ‘I really, really don’t want to imply that it isn’t good, but I really, really can’t understand how you can like this movie/book/TV show/song/poet‘ argument. It’s hypocritical and taking me for a fool and I want to bury it in some remote little corner and never let them use it again.

Especially when it’s about a TV show, because everybody knows TV shows aren’t art, and god forbid I should be so ridiculously excited about anything that isn’t art. Lordy. I’ll be sure to remember that from now on — it wouldn’t do to step over the outskirts of what I can and can't like, after all.

Protip, parents mine: I. Don’t. Give. A. Fuck.