Let me first say that I am an excellent employee... when I'm given work. As an intern, sometimes people forget that I have nothing to do unless they give me an assignment. In those periods of time, I have to be creative and secretly find ways to entertain myself. Here's a list of a few things I've done in the office without anyone noticing...
- Place ebay bids, spend an hour shopping for shoes, hunt etsy for the best priced jewelry supplies
- Watch an episode of "So You Think You Can Dance" (1 hr 40 min)
- Write every blog post I've ever written.
- Download and Listen to the entire Glee soundtrack, complete with humming and whispered singing
- Read 200 MLIA posts while copying and pasting almost all of them into a conversation with Kelley
- Dismantle a portion of my desk with a screwdriver (in a dress and 4" heels...)
- Stare at the broken copying machine for 15 minutes
- Laugh out loud (including a snort) without a single twitch from anyone in the office
- Die inside at the site of a nameless superior's playboy magazine. (I know this isn't exactly something that people would notice... but I really need other people to share in my horror. Who get's playboy delivered to an office full of women? A creeper... that's who.)
- Fall asleep... I remained seated and apparently looked like I was working on my laptop. (I know this because I asked Joni if anyone noticed.)
- Leave. I have actually gotten up and left the office without anyone noticing.
Now that I've figured out that I can get away with a fair amount of tomfoolery... I kinda want to push the boundaries. I need ideas of things to do!! Bradley told me to poop in a cup, but that really wasn't constructive. I know you can be constructive.
Love,
Katie
17 November 2009
Psychosomatic , addict, insane!
Like the Prodigy shout out?? When I decided to write this point, their song 'breathe' immediately popped into my head. Luckily it only refers to adjective #1 in the title.
So, there's a little factoid about me that has been becoming more well known as time goes on, and I thought I'd just broadcast it. I have a physical reaction to violence. I'm fine with violence on a screen, I've watched surgeries, so it isn't the blood, and I tend to be a hitter... but that's where it ends. As it turns out, the second physical violence is live... even in the form of boxing or ultimate fighting on TV (although it's not as severe)... I get lightheaded and nauseous. This can result in throwing up, but usually I can get myself away from the situation fast enough to where I just need to sit for a few minutes to regain my strength.
There have been a few witnesses. My friends who traveled with me to Rome saw me nearly pass out over a love triangle spat before the first punch had even made contact. My friend Katie A. was in the car with me when a man got punched on the streets of San Francisco, and I had to quickly find a place to park. I nearly vomited on my computer one day when my brother showed me a clip of an especially gruesome UFC match on youtube. Most recently, Scott and a kickball dude almost got in a fight at a local bar, and I had to excuse myself from the round of flip cup (don't worry, I finished my turn) and run outside in case the argument came to blows. It happens without fail, and I have no idea why.
Anyone else wonder how this might have come about? I was trying to think if maybe I would have an evolutionary advantage in some sort of catastrophic event, and I then realized there's no direct positive outcome of my weak stomach. If I fully passed out, maybe it would be like possums or the fainting goats, which pretend like they're dead when something scares them. For the most part, however, I just feel like I need to put my head between my legs and take deep breaths, so that doesn't do anything for me. Vomiting doesn't exactly scare away predators, especially since the normal vomiting process (if I may be so bold as to generalize) includes retching a few times first. That gives ample time for someone to take me down before I would actually puke and potentially freak them out.
So, here's what I've decided. My psychosomatic response to violence is actually an advantageous cultural adaptation. (Huh? Stick with me...) My "condition" has a very positive social impact, which benefits me indirectly. First, my friends know not to get in a fight around me, lest they want me to puke. This means violence never happens in my immediate group of friends, and that I can at least expect one degree of separation between me and the brawlers. Second, if my friends and I happen to be near a fight, the scene that I cause almost immediately pulls us away from where the action really lies. This is a much better scenario than just making our way past the punches... hooray safety! Third, hypothetically, if I were near you while you were fighting, and I couldn't get away, so I puked right in front of you... wouldn't you stop fighting out of disgust/intrigue/distraction? I believe you would... and in that case I would have simultaneously saved the day and my ass. So, really, this "condition" is brilliant... right? Right.
There is one thing I must beg of you all, before I finish this post. Now that you know, I ask that you please be sensitive with this information. Don't punch someone in the face just to see me puke. It's not nice to your friend or me, and I will try and aim... so you'll be just as upset in the end.
Love,
Katie
So, there's a little factoid about me that has been becoming more well known as time goes on, and I thought I'd just broadcast it. I have a physical reaction to violence. I'm fine with violence on a screen, I've watched surgeries, so it isn't the blood, and I tend to be a hitter... but that's where it ends. As it turns out, the second physical violence is live... even in the form of boxing or ultimate fighting on TV (although it's not as severe)... I get lightheaded and nauseous. This can result in throwing up, but usually I can get myself away from the situation fast enough to where I just need to sit for a few minutes to regain my strength.
There have been a few witnesses. My friends who traveled with me to Rome saw me nearly pass out over a love triangle spat before the first punch had even made contact. My friend Katie A. was in the car with me when a man got punched on the streets of San Francisco, and I had to quickly find a place to park. I nearly vomited on my computer one day when my brother showed me a clip of an especially gruesome UFC match on youtube. Most recently, Scott and a kickball dude almost got in a fight at a local bar, and I had to excuse myself from the round of flip cup (don't worry, I finished my turn) and run outside in case the argument came to blows. It happens without fail, and I have no idea why.
Anyone else wonder how this might have come about? I was trying to think if maybe I would have an evolutionary advantage in some sort of catastrophic event, and I then realized there's no direct positive outcome of my weak stomach. If I fully passed out, maybe it would be like possums or the fainting goats, which pretend like they're dead when something scares them. For the most part, however, I just feel like I need to put my head between my legs and take deep breaths, so that doesn't do anything for me. Vomiting doesn't exactly scare away predators, especially since the normal vomiting process (if I may be so bold as to generalize) includes retching a few times first. That gives ample time for someone to take me down before I would actually puke and potentially freak them out.
So, here's what I've decided. My psychosomatic response to violence is actually an advantageous cultural adaptation. (Huh? Stick with me...) My "condition" has a very positive social impact, which benefits me indirectly. First, my friends know not to get in a fight around me, lest they want me to puke. This means violence never happens in my immediate group of friends, and that I can at least expect one degree of separation between me and the brawlers. Second, if my friends and I happen to be near a fight, the scene that I cause almost immediately pulls us away from where the action really lies. This is a much better scenario than just making our way past the punches... hooray safety! Third, hypothetically, if I were near you while you were fighting, and I couldn't get away, so I puked right in front of you... wouldn't you stop fighting out of disgust/intrigue/distraction? I believe you would... and in that case I would have simultaneously saved the day and my ass. So, really, this "condition" is brilliant... right? Right.
There is one thing I must beg of you all, before I finish this post. Now that you know, I ask that you please be sensitive with this information. Don't punch someone in the face just to see me puke. It's not nice to your friend or me, and I will try and aim... so you'll be just as upset in the end.
Love,
Katie
16 November 2009
#1 My New Barry White
So, two things have inspired this post. One happened to be when I played this singer/songwriter for a friend on Friday night, and the other is just essentially my never-ending quest for the right music to play in any given situation.
First, let's talk about Barry. Given that he's been "sexy music" since the time I was born, Barry White has always creeped me out a wee. I don't want a tall, fat man with a crazy low voice speak-singing about "love making." I'm actually getting shivers right now just thinking of it.
Anyhoodle, I started trying to think of the musician that could fill the gaping hole that Barry White's creep-factor has left behind, and there was only one man that could fill it. (That's what she said.)
JASON MRAZ!!!
Alright... have you stopped laughing at me yet?? K... let's discuss. At first, Jason Mraz seems like a horrible idea for a Barry White replacement... but let's think about his songs. What are they? Thinly veiled discussions of the whole gamut of sexual experiences via metaphor, complete with catchy refrains. While Barry White tries to soothingly tell you about how he's going to touch you (like a pedophile), Jason Mraz tells it like it is. He wants it, wants it bad, and he tells you exactly how he wants it and what he's going to do to you. FANTASTIC!!!
Jason also has a good sense of humor about sex, which is key to any sort of encounter with a special someone, or the guy you met 20 minutes ago. (One of my favorite make-out sessions included me blowing into the guys mouth, and having his cheeks puff out like a puffer fish. He didn't enjoy it, until he realized that he could do it back to me, and we dissolved into a fit of giggles.) Finished a bit to early? There's a song for that. Left alone to your own devices? There's a song for that, too. He can be customized to fit your needs.
I also happen to believe his song "Butterfly" inspired an artist at the exhibit I went to on Friday... resulting in a vagina complete with wings and antennae. Although, technically, I believe the artist was mistaken. (So artist... fyi... Jason Mraz was calling the vagina a butterfly... he wasn't saying that the girl he was with somehow had some sort of hybrid genitals. Okay? Okay.) I'm going to take this as evidence of the fact that Jason Mraz is deep. Deep enough to merit using him as background noise during your precious moments.
Who is your new Barry White??
Love,
Katie
P.S. It's okay that you all have decided to comment on my posts by writing on my facebook wall or texting me. I feel the love... I just also feel like others would benefit from your hilarity.
First, let's talk about Barry. Given that he's been "sexy music" since the time I was born, Barry White has always creeped me out a wee. I don't want a tall, fat man with a crazy low voice speak-singing about "love making." I'm actually getting shivers right now just thinking of it.
Anyhoodle, I started trying to think of the musician that could fill the gaping hole that Barry White's creep-factor has left behind, and there was only one man that could fill it. (That's what she said.)
JASON MRAZ!!!
Alright... have you stopped laughing at me yet?? K... let's discuss. At first, Jason Mraz seems like a horrible idea for a Barry White replacement... but let's think about his songs. What are they? Thinly veiled discussions of the whole gamut of sexual experiences via metaphor, complete with catchy refrains. While Barry White tries to soothingly tell you about how he's going to touch you (like a pedophile), Jason Mraz tells it like it is. He wants it, wants it bad, and he tells you exactly how he wants it and what he's going to do to you. FANTASTIC!!!
Jason also has a good sense of humor about sex, which is key to any sort of encounter with a special someone, or the guy you met 20 minutes ago. (One of my favorite make-out sessions included me blowing into the guys mouth, and having his cheeks puff out like a puffer fish. He didn't enjoy it, until he realized that he could do it back to me, and we dissolved into a fit of giggles.) Finished a bit to early? There's a song for that. Left alone to your own devices? There's a song for that, too. He can be customized to fit your needs.
I also happen to believe his song "Butterfly" inspired an artist at the exhibit I went to on Friday... resulting in a vagina complete with wings and antennae. Although, technically, I believe the artist was mistaken. (So artist... fyi... Jason Mraz was calling the vagina a butterfly... he wasn't saying that the girl he was with somehow had some sort of hybrid genitals. Okay? Okay.) I'm going to take this as evidence of the fact that Jason Mraz is deep. Deep enough to merit using him as background noise during your precious moments.
Who is your new Barry White??
Love,
Katie
P.S. It's okay that you all have decided to comment on my posts by writing on my facebook wall or texting me. I feel the love... I just also feel like others would benefit from your hilarity.
#2 Song Discoveries
This morning while in my spinning class, my instructor informed us that he would be playing a song that he used to think was a love song back in 1989. (I chuckled silently... because I was 3-years-old at the time... and apparently I find humor in the fact that other people are old.) So, we're pedaling along, and finally he says: "Are you ready for this?" It was Guns N' Roses (forgive me for not knowing which one... it was 6 am.)
Anyway, this got me thinking about all the songs that I used to listen to in the past that just really weren't what I thought they were. (In the past few minutes I decided to just do misunderstood songs... love song or not.) So, I've decided to compile a list... let's see if I can get 10.
1) Too Close by Next. I didn't know the title... so I assumed they were saying "Baby when we're crying, I get so excited." I remember struggling for quite some time over why he was so excited about crying, and eventually decided it was because they were crying about something wonderful. I think it's important I copy some lyrics, so that you can see just how delusional I was at 12:
I wonder if she could tell I'm hard right now, hmmm
Yeah, come on, dance for me baby, ha ha, yeah
Oh, oh, you feel that? Alright
Come on, don't stop now
You done did it, come on, uh, yeah, alright, hold on
Baby when we're grinding
I get so excited
Ooh, how I like it
I try but I can't fight it
Oh, your dancing real close
Plus it's real real slow
(You know what you're doing, don't you)
You're making it hard for me
2. Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band. At the time I first heard it, I thought it was a song about some sort of cops and robbers scenario between a guy and a girl. Which, in my defense, is kind of right... but the intent behind the game is just a wee bit different.
3. Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Turns out I got this one wrong... twice. Bradley read my post right after I finished it, and told me I had it wrong, again. This song is about heroin addiction. I've got it now.
4. Puff the Magic Dragon. We've all come to this realization, for some of us it was a joyous occassion, and for some of us it was heartbreaking. I'm still conflicted as to how I feel.
5. Neon by John Mayer. She's alway buzzing just like Neon? Why, what a vibrant, energetic young lady!
6. Papa, no Pega la Mama by The Gipsy Kings. This song was ruined by my desire to be trilingual. WTF Gipsy Kings??!! Why put a song about a boy begging his father to stop beating his mom to such a catchy salsa beat??!!
7. Roxanne by The Police. This is by far the most embarassingly recent discovery, and I WATCHED MOULIN ROUGE!! Feel free to taunt me, but I'm a little proud of the fact that I didn't immediately think of prostitution. There might be a shred of innocence left in me.
8. Peaches & Cream by 112. Why can't someone just like their fruit with a little cream?
9. Janie's Got a Gun by Aerosmith. I blame this on mumbling. I figured Janie had a gun, I just wasn't clear on what exactly she was doing with it. Okay?
10. Oops, Oh My by Tweet. I am horrified for the younger version of me that dance provocatively to this song at school dances. HORRIFIED!!
Hey! I got 10! That was easier than I thought... which makes it even worse, really.
Love,
Katie
Anyway, this got me thinking about all the songs that I used to listen to in the past that just really weren't what I thought they were. (In the past few minutes I decided to just do misunderstood songs... love song or not.) So, I've decided to compile a list... let's see if I can get 10.
1) Too Close by Next. I didn't know the title... so I assumed they were saying "Baby when we're crying, I get so excited." I remember struggling for quite some time over why he was so excited about crying, and eventually decided it was because they were crying about something wonderful. I think it's important I copy some lyrics, so that you can see just how delusional I was at 12:
I wonder if she could tell I'm hard right now, hmmm
Yeah, come on, dance for me baby, ha ha, yeah
Oh, oh, you feel that? Alright
Come on, don't stop now
You done did it, come on, uh, yeah, alright, hold on
Baby when we're grinding
I get so excited
Ooh, how I like it
I try but I can't fight it
Oh, your dancing real close
Plus it's real real slow
(You know what you're doing, don't you)
You're making it hard for me
2. Crash Into Me by Dave Matthews Band. At the time I first heard it, I thought it was a song about some sort of cops and robbers scenario between a guy and a girl. Which, in my defense, is kind of right... but the intent behind the game is just a wee bit different.
3. Under the Bridge by Red Hot Chili Peppers. Turns out I got this one wrong... twice. Bradley read my post right after I finished it, and told me I had it wrong, again. This song is about heroin addiction. I've got it now.
4. Puff the Magic Dragon. We've all come to this realization, for some of us it was a joyous occassion, and for some of us it was heartbreaking. I'm still conflicted as to how I feel.
5. Neon by John Mayer. She's alway buzzing just like Neon? Why, what a vibrant, energetic young lady!
6. Papa, no Pega la Mama by The Gipsy Kings. This song was ruined by my desire to be trilingual. WTF Gipsy Kings??!! Why put a song about a boy begging his father to stop beating his mom to such a catchy salsa beat??!!
7. Roxanne by The Police. This is by far the most embarassingly recent discovery, and I WATCHED MOULIN ROUGE!! Feel free to taunt me, but I'm a little proud of the fact that I didn't immediately think of prostitution. There might be a shred of innocence left in me.
8. Peaches & Cream by 112. Why can't someone just like their fruit with a little cream?
9. Janie's Got a Gun by Aerosmith. I blame this on mumbling. I figured Janie had a gun, I just wasn't clear on what exactly she was doing with it. Okay?
10. Oops, Oh My by Tweet. I am horrified for the younger version of me that dance provocatively to this song at school dances. HORRIFIED!!
Hey! I got 10! That was easier than I thought... which makes it even worse, really.
Love,
Katie
#3 Letter to an Unsuspecting Human Being
Dear Genuis Bar Dude (a.k.a. Casey),
First of all, have you managed to fix my computer? I would really appreciate if one of two things happened: Either, that my computer is really fine and you've managed to get me a battery that won't burn my legs after the computer's been on for 5 minutes. Or, that everything about my computer is hopeless, despite the fact that my hard drive is completely intact and salvageable, and that there is no other option than for you to give me a free computer, or for my father to buy me a new one. (Happy Birthday to me!!)
Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to more pressing matters. You're cute! Don't think I didn't notice how quickly you corrected yourself when talking about your girlfriend, you mean ex-girlfriend. It was a not-so-subtle way of letting me know that you're single and ready to mingle that I truly appreciated. The other genius bar dude tried to say that he'd noticed me in the store a few times... but you knew better. You sang along to the Stevie Wonder song playing in the store, and although you weren't in the right key... it was still adorable enough to get me on your side with the ensuing epic battle of wits between you two. Remember how I insulted him two ways in one sentence? He said I wasn't funny, but you rebutted with the fact that you thought I was hilarious.(No... you're hilarious!)
I hope I was funny enough to keep your mind of the fact that my computer was not backed up, my apple care had expired, and my aluminum case was covered in dings. I figure I was, because you told me that as long as none of the damage was due to my clumsiness, you wouldn't charge me. That, or you liked my V-neck shirt.
Lastly, thank you for letting me know that your "wedding ring" was a fake designed to keep away the genius bar groupies. Obviously my thinly veiled attempt at flirtation was not deemed creepy. One piece of advice though, for those unwelcome flirtationists (flirts + exhibitionists), I really think you should get a different ring, seeing as yours was adjustable and made of steel. I'm just saying...
Love, Katie
P.S. This letter just reminded me of the "Missed Connections" on Craigslist... both in content, and in the fact that after reading through it, I felt pity for the overexaggerated version of myself. Letter FAIL.
First of all, have you managed to fix my computer? I would really appreciate if one of two things happened: Either, that my computer is really fine and you've managed to get me a battery that won't burn my legs after the computer's been on for 5 minutes. Or, that everything about my computer is hopeless, despite the fact that my hard drive is completely intact and salvageable, and that there is no other option than for you to give me a free computer, or for my father to buy me a new one. (Happy Birthday to me!!)
Now that we have that out of the way, let's move on to more pressing matters. You're cute! Don't think I didn't notice how quickly you corrected yourself when talking about your girlfriend, you mean ex-girlfriend. It was a not-so-subtle way of letting me know that you're single and ready to mingle that I truly appreciated. The other genius bar dude tried to say that he'd noticed me in the store a few times... but you knew better. You sang along to the Stevie Wonder song playing in the store, and although you weren't in the right key... it was still adorable enough to get me on your side with the ensuing epic battle of wits between you two. Remember how I insulted him two ways in one sentence? He said I wasn't funny, but you rebutted with the fact that you thought I was hilarious.(No... you're hilarious!)
I hope I was funny enough to keep your mind of the fact that my computer was not backed up, my apple care had expired, and my aluminum case was covered in dings. I figure I was, because you told me that as long as none of the damage was due to my clumsiness, you wouldn't charge me. That, or you liked my V-neck shirt.
Lastly, thank you for letting me know that your "wedding ring" was a fake designed to keep away the genius bar groupies. Obviously my thinly veiled attempt at flirtation was not deemed creepy. One piece of advice though, for those unwelcome flirtationists (flirts + exhibitionists), I really think you should get a different ring, seeing as yours was adjustable and made of steel. I'm just saying...
Love, Katie
P.S. This letter just reminded me of the "Missed Connections" on Craigslist... both in content, and in the fact that after reading through it, I felt pity for the overexaggerated version of myself. Letter FAIL.
Which path to follow??
Today I came up with 3 possible topics...
1) The New Barry White - what you should be playing while making sweet, sweet love.
2) Songs you thought were love songs until you got old enough to understand the lyrics.
3) Another letter to someone who doesn't know I was paying that much attention to them.
I can't choose... so I'll write them all. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with more ideas tomorrow, otherwise I'll wish I had saved them. (I apparently treat blog posts like candy... when it's there, I just can't say no.)
So... on to post #3. (I'll do them in reverse order so that the #'s show up right in the blog.)
1) The New Barry White - what you should be playing while making sweet, sweet love.
2) Songs you thought were love songs until you got old enough to understand the lyrics.
3) Another letter to someone who doesn't know I was paying that much attention to them.
I can't choose... so I'll write them all. Hopefully I'll be able to come up with more ideas tomorrow, otherwise I'll wish I had saved them. (I apparently treat blog posts like candy... when it's there, I just can't say no.)
So... on to post #3. (I'll do them in reverse order so that the #'s show up right in the blog.)
13 November 2009
Bad day blues...
So this morning my alarm went off at 6am. Normally that's when I toss on gym clothes and head out the door, but I was exhausted, so I did what any normal person would do. I texted my dad, who was on the other side of the wall from me: "SLEEP," and went back to bed. (Joni says this is proof that communication is dead. I say it's an ingenious way to make sure that I remain minimally conscious, so as to better fall back asleep.)
Anyway, in my state, I remembered to text my dad but forgot to reset the alarm. "Fear not!" you would think. My dad would be back from the gym around 7:00, my mom would inevitably be awake, and they would notice that I wasn't present in the day's morning rituals, right? No, of course not. I awoke to a knock on my door at 8:30, and my dad saying: "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at the office right now?" CURSES!!! I made it to work by 9:05, which is impressive... but ever since then I've been thinking about the scene that passed in the condo before my being awoken.
WHAT WERE MY PARENTS DOING??? Dad was working on the presentation he has to give today, which is understandable, but my mother has absolutely nothing that she needs to be doing. So, in this scenario... she wakes up at 6:00 when dad gets up, then falls back asleep once he's left. Next, she wakes up again when dad gets back at around 7:00, and gets up to make a latte. She makes her latte within 5 minutes of waking up, cooks up some oatmeal (another few minutes), and then what??? Sits around revelling in my absence until she realizes that I never skip breakfast, and that perhaps I should have been making my own oatmeal... say... an hour ago???!!! (Which reminds me... I've now skipped breakfast. The rest of my blog will be written while eating a Nature Valley bar... mmmm.... peanut butter is by far the best one in the variety pack.)
So anyway... the point is that I am now at the office with wet hair, no makeup except mascara, no earrings, and a horrible attempt at what could have been a cute outfit. I want to go home, I want to sleep, and I want to watch the Office (as well as the 10 million other TV shows I watch) on my computer while making jewelry. Anyone know how I can swing this??
Love,
Katie
P.S. Remind me to write an email about my psychosomatic reaction to violence. Those of you that don't know about it will think it's weird/funny, and those of you that have experienced it might enjoy reliving the moments.
Anyway, in my state, I remembered to text my dad but forgot to reset the alarm. "Fear not!" you would think. My dad would be back from the gym around 7:00, my mom would inevitably be awake, and they would notice that I wasn't present in the day's morning rituals, right? No, of course not. I awoke to a knock on my door at 8:30, and my dad saying: "Hey, aren't you supposed to be at the office right now?" CURSES!!! I made it to work by 9:05, which is impressive... but ever since then I've been thinking about the scene that passed in the condo before my being awoken.
WHAT WERE MY PARENTS DOING??? Dad was working on the presentation he has to give today, which is understandable, but my mother has absolutely nothing that she needs to be doing. So, in this scenario... she wakes up at 6:00 when dad gets up, then falls back asleep once he's left. Next, she wakes up again when dad gets back at around 7:00, and gets up to make a latte. She makes her latte within 5 minutes of waking up, cooks up some oatmeal (another few minutes), and then what??? Sits around revelling in my absence until she realizes that I never skip breakfast, and that perhaps I should have been making my own oatmeal... say... an hour ago???!!! (Which reminds me... I've now skipped breakfast. The rest of my blog will be written while eating a Nature Valley bar... mmmm.... peanut butter is by far the best one in the variety pack.)
So anyway... the point is that I am now at the office with wet hair, no makeup except mascara, no earrings, and a horrible attempt at what could have been a cute outfit. I want to go home, I want to sleep, and I want to watch the Office (as well as the 10 million other TV shows I watch) on my computer while making jewelry. Anyone know how I can swing this??
Love,
Katie
P.S. Remind me to write an email about my psychosomatic reaction to violence. Those of you that don't know about it will think it's weird/funny, and those of you that have experienced it might enjoy reliving the moments.
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