Let me just start by saying that I've gotten asked lately about my messy topknot (ha). My secret is this thing. It looks really ugly by itself, but I just wrap it around my baby topknot and kind of backcomb it and pin it in place and boom, chunky messy bun.
Also, my Stitch Fix items have been amazing lately! I just received the above crochet racerback top this last weekend, and omgah, it's heaven. Flowy, casual, artsy. In love.
Now let me just talk a minute about popcorn crunchers. Particularly ones that crunch their popcorn loudly at the movie theater. Particularly the ones that eat their popcorn piece by piece and crunch each piece loudly. Particularly the ones who crunch and chomp and slurp and basically do anything besides sit still, shut up and watch the damn movie!
Misophonia: literally "hatred of sound," a neurological disorder in which negative experiences (anger, flight, hatred, disgust) are triggered by specific sounds. It can be described as an immediate and extremely negative emotional response accompanied by an automatic physiological flight response to identifiable auditory, visual and olfactory stimuli. People who have misophonia are most commonly angered, and even enraged, by common ambient sounds, such as other people clipping their nails, brushing teeth, eating crushed ice, eating, slurping, drinking, chewing gun, or or or....
EATING POPCORN LOUDLY IN A MOVIE THEATER!
Angered? Enraged?! Sounds about right! I didn't pay $2000 for a movie ticket and large soda to sit down by some twerp who thinks popcorn crunching is an olympic event!
Oh wait, wait, wait. Excuse me. I'm sorry, because actually no, that's not how it happened. I actually on purpose sat myself in the upper left middle row, away from any potential misophonia-inducing cretin and since the theater was mostly empty, I figured for once I may have an enjoyable time watching the newest horror flick in peace.
But nooooooooo. No, some fool who I can only assume is a second cousin of Kid Rock has to sit right in my bubble. Not three rows down, not two rows up, and most definitely not twenty rows over as the entire theater is practically deserted but this individual actually plops down in the very seat right. behind. me.
I mean, he's so close he could pick out my head lice with a comb. That is if I had any. Which I don't but that's certainly not the point. The point is I have this humongous frothy mouth behind me who is not only texting the entire time and kicking the back of my chair but is eating his sweet melty buttery goodness extremely loud and making the most godawful smacking noises like the loathsome, horrid entitled bitch that he is!!! Enraged? Damn right I'm enraged!!
Misophonia? I think they have another term for that. Involuntary homicide.