Toilet seat drama

Last night I stayed at my boyfriend’s place, which has had some change in personnel (his Danish roommate has her boyfriend in town). When I got up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom, whose door was closed (who the fuck leaves the bathroom door closed after they leave the bathroom? How are you supposed to know if someone’s in there?), THE MOTHERFUCKING SEAT WAS UP! Now you know that my penis-laden beau would never leave the motherfucking seat up. I had to touch the nasty-ass toilet seat in the middle of the fucking night so I could go to the bathroom (meanwhile, is this diabetes? Is death imminent?) because the dude from one of the world’s most gender equal countries can’t put the MOTHERFUCKING seat down!!!

Anyway, I went to see Moonlight last night and it blew me the fuck apart. I’m going to mention it in every single conversation I have for the rest of this year and also probably the rest of my life. Not surprisingly, I’m terrible at talking and writing about movies, but y’all need to go see this shit. I’m not going to put the trailer in this post because then it will juxtapose that work of art with my whack-as-fuck post about having to put the seat down in the middle of the night. Instead, here’s a picture of Pat and Pat’s fat cat:


I want to link to the gorgeous reviews in The New York Times and The New Yorker and every other publication because the film has unanimous acclaim, but I’m glad I saw the movie before I read anything about it. Please go see it, and talk to me about it, forever and ever.



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