Someone tell my roommate it’s not the 1950s

Sorry, just a tiff I have to get out before I explode.

1. I was recently hired at $7/hr to read for a teen creative writing magazine. I hoped that this job would help me gain experience and references in the publishing world. By experience I hoped that I’d have some creative license – be it as little as writing article headlines – in the reading. Nope. My job is simply "if it’s not about abortion, rape, sex, hate speech, homosexuality, or Other Hot Topics and it isn’t riddled with profanity then it’s a Go!" My creativity is only let of its leash to decide how I want to redress fuck: f**k or perhaps f***?

This all means that I am obligated to let "articles" such as the following through: "There is this girl named taylor that im dating but since i went to her game it seems like she s mad and i dont know what to ask i ask if she is mad but all i get back i no at night we do say night ly but yesterday she didnt write back if any oh you girls know what she might be thinking plz write back!!"

I "trashed" an article like this but since I am still in training my evaluations are themselves evaluated. I got an email from my boss, "I see no reason for any of those you Trashed to not be put through". Christ be nimble, how am I to take this job seriously when they welcome publishing diddlydickens like this? I will note that stuff like this is only published on the Online Magazine whereas I do get to tag articles that I think should be reviewed for magazine publication. Still. Teenagers treat this magazine (online section) like forums and its administrators are on LaLa island under the impression that they’re boosting young people’s morale by showing them that they can get their work published.

This magazine isn’t exactly a dud either. Most high schools have a subscription (and I went on their London creative writing trip a few years ago which was highly selective).

2. Roommate and I were watching The Pretender and in one scene Jarod, main character, and his girlfriend drive away from his girlfriend’s house. All’s well, you’d think. Jarod’s girlfriend is the one that is in the driver’s seat when they pull out. Says roommate, "I’m surprised they let her do that." Confused I asked her what she meant. "The guy usually drives in a couple." Um, no. Roommate continued on, "My dad always drives. My mom NEVER does when they are together." I can feel the frustrated outrage building under my skin, That is not true. I’ve never seen this as a rule among any couples. "It’s an old fashioned rule, yes, but it’s nice. I’m just surprised." At this point I had to stop talking because I was actually getting ticked. I bet my mother felt the need to kick some random guy in the balls just because she can when this conversation went on. If she’d been in her grave poor Devil would’ve been her victim. This is of course the woman that, when my male neighbor sat behind her in the car and stepped on her seatbelt while she was driving, warned him deadpan, "Matthew, if you do that again I will stop this car and rip your balls off."

Oh, Mother.

Signing out: my information retention brain bucket is pea-sized. For all the AP US History homework I endured in high school you think I’d at least remember the "Important Dates" Ruderman drilled into our brains.

Naw.