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I missed the HP bandwagon out of UFO Cat Hoodie Funny Cat Selfi Ugly Christmas Sweater Christmas Gift For Men And Women, so I was older and still dumb and decided to hop on this bandwagon, “because what do I have to lose?” I really enjoyed 1-3 , even the hilariously cringey, yet honestly, kind of ballsy, empty pages with nothing but the months. I also remember telling someone that “I’ve never read a book that is constantly repeating the same thing, and isn’t boring!” which in hindsight, is not the ringing endorsement I thought it was at the time. And then, I got to book four. And it was a hot, hot, hot mess. I don’t think I have ever rooted for the death of a toddler before or since, but I really needed someone to see some common sense, and something, anything to happen in the plot that made the slightest bit of sense. Whatever religious nonsense was tastefully covered by sparkly ice-cold skin in the first 3 books went full monty by book 4. For me, it raised a lot of questions about responsible marketing of not awesome relationships to young adults. I also needed an editor to stop the slaughter of GRE level words, but that was about as realistic a wish as hoping Meyer’s would one day understand that the equivalent of a child beauty pageant queen strutting around on a battlefield is fucking bizarre. I usually don’t relish carnage, but again, I was ready for someone to die. I needed that death. I needed that toddler punted into the sea. I was losing my goddamn mind over hundreds of pages of nonsense at the end, and someone needed to pay for the sins of the author, and it might as well have been Frankenstein’s toddler monster. I would love to read a sequel of Bella and Edward 15 years later, full on post-pandemic. Does Edward have flashbacks to the Spanish Flu? Has Bella finally understood that parenting is less noble sacrifice and more daily mundane grind? What happens when their prancing wunderkind uses her peace-glam-dazzle to manipulate her fellow school kids? That’s the fanfiction someone needs to write. Twilight for the middle aged who were not bitten by a vampire in 2008 and are now no longer 20 and dumb, but 30 and boring (insert hyphens here.) Overall, there was a lot of hating on teenage girls for liking teenage girl things. But there is and was legitimate criticism of the underlying messaging in the books, especially of the ginormous red flags in all of the characters’ relationships, which Meyer’s herself uncritically, and very proudly, hoisted for the world to see. At the same time, read with general warning and enjoy it. It is entertaining. I had no idea that there were so many followers ups or that 50 Shades had even more books. So thank you for the highly entertaining drama and trip down memory lane.

UFO Cat Hoodie Funny Cat Selfi Ugly Christmas Sweater Christmas Gift For Men And Women,
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Part of living in a UFO Cat Hoodie Funny Cat Selfi Ugly Christmas Sweater Christmas Gift For Men And Women is paying taxes that go towards supporting people who need it most, or where would we be? I am fine paying taxes towards roads, schools, WIC, Welfare, school lunch programs, day care assistance- this is how we help people out of the hell holes of poverty so that they might be able to escape the very real and damaging cycle and be able to someday pay their share into the same pot for those less fortunate or lucky. Institutionalized racism is still a thing, even if you don’t see it happening with your own eyes. POC, women, minorities- we are not paid the same as the average white male for the same work. We are still marginalized in society. We still do not have equal representation in our government. We have a long way to go before the playing field is actually equal. Furthermore on the topic of an equal playing field- people obtaining the same rights and privileges you have does not mean you are LOSING your rights and privileges, but people are simply catching

This hits home. Hard. My mom passed away in December, to cancer, after the UFO Cat Hoodie Funny Cat Selfi Ugly Christmas Sweater Christmas Gift For Men And Women told us there was simply nothing else to do. I felt like her last dregs of life were like your mother’s: frightening, unnatural, and torturous. We had no misunderstandings about her survival, we were just trying to keep her comfortable. We couldn’t. 300 mcg of fentanyl patches couldn’t. She, I assume like your mother, was in pain until the moment she was able to slip away. I so wish there had been something to do as easy as extinguishing a candle to stop her suffering. At some point, my dad and I are likely going to use her battle to advocate for allowing terminally ill people to die with dignity and peace. May I use some elements of your story? It brought me to tears because the imagery and metaphors are so apt and they remind me so much of the early days in hospice when we were still fighting. You so succinctly expressed what a futile fight it is to stave off the inevitable, and you hit the nail on the head with the terrors that come with the final stages of dying. I think a story like this – where the problems, fears, and pains are real, tangible, and obvious – would help so many people see why assisted suicide is needed. Thank you for writing the last scene, where her husband protects her on her journey down the road. My dad is still with me, and so I think it was my mom’s grandma who protected my mom on her road, just like she protected my mom in life. Today is my mom’s birthday, and the thought of her walking hand in hand with her grandma down a road to paradise is a very nice thought to start the day with. If this was inspired by your experience with your mom battling cancer, I hope you’re doing as well as you can. It sucks. Cut yourself some slack today; I know I’m going to do so for myself.