u/Sporch_Unsaze

Every night they check his cell and it's just Pauls wall-to-wall,​ fucking and sucking. Just absolutely daisy-chaining himself.

All the other Presidents are scared of me. No one remembers me. No one wants to be my friend-- They think that I will eat them. They send me from office to office, laying the groundwork for a global economy with the U.S. at its center. And as I get better at it, I get bigger, and they fear me more and more. I am a victim of my own success. Taft. I don't even get a real name. Only a name that sounds like candy. I was the President and the Chief Justice and no one sees it. Some days I feel so alone, I want to sit in my bathtub and cry, but I don't. I never do. Because I'd get stuck again. Not a single person in the entire universe would remember anything else about me... Take it to your grave.

Fallen would have absolutely swept if not for the beginning, the story, the performances, the costuming, ​the cinematography, the soundtrack, and the ending.

Hear me out, and this is going to sound so fucking stupid, but I actually don’t know what to do anymore.

My girlfriend (F26, C cup, but with an ass that would leave poets speechless) and I (M30, six figure salary, seven after commissions) have been together for two years. We have lived together for a little over one year (368 days), having gotten a home together in a nice neighborhood after both of our previous leases were terminated due to our constant, overly loud lovemaking.

We both have decent jobs (she's a private eye / yoga pants model and I'm a submarine captain), own our cars (1973 Chevrolet Corvette Stingray and Batmobile), and go half on everything (except banging, which is a 110% effort on both sides). We are working towards putting a down payment on a home that we can begin mortgaging, because finances, assets and passive income. I definitely know what mortgaging is, so don't even ask.

In other words, everything in our relationship is absolutely stellar. Definitely better than yours, Shaun.

VERY IMPORTANT INFORMATION: Except the goddamn firefighter thing.

It all started around four months ago. We were going on a date, and I was driving us downtown to the venue. On the way out of our neighborhood, there is a small firehouse that serves as this areas fire station, because that's how fire departments work. Still with me? Good!

I would guess it has maybe six firemen inside at any given time, kind of like Shaun's mom. Two fire trucks, and some smaller support vehicles. Pretty normal semi-rural fire station. Is my description too confusing? No? Great!

As we’re driving by, my girlfriend notices that the firemen have a large projector set up outside and are watching a movie while grilling meats and perhaps other things. The movie was 2003's Dreamcatcher. A thrilling combination of suspense, horror, and friendship, with Jason Lee as Beaver.

She does a double take and goes, “what the…?” before scoffing. “Daaaamn, those dudes ain’t doing shiieeeeeeeeeeet!” Then—somehow—I heard a bass lick. It was funky as hell, but caught me totally off guard.

I looked around. “What do you mean?”

“Those firefighters back there. They is leaned back, straight chilling, like Cousin Emma on Sanford and Son. Lazy!” And then another bass lick!

After checking the backseat of the car for a hidden bassist, I laughed about it this time and explained that typically full-time firefighters stayed at the fire station during their long-ass shift so that they wouldn’t have to come from somewhere else if an emergency happened, and as such they get very comfortable there. I even drew a picture for her, because I respect my girlfriend's intellect. Cooking meals, reading, sleeping, training, and, yes, watching classic movies like Dreamcatcher and doing other leisurely activities.

My girlfriend literally TURNED her nose up at that, scoffed again, and went “Oh HELL no! Lazy!” After the bass riff was over, I laughed again, a little less enthusiastically this time, and asked, “well, what do you think they should be doing?”

She slapped her hand against her thigh and said, and I swear: “You big dummy! Honky ass honky! Literally anything! They should be going out, LOOKING for fires!”

That one threw me, and as I tried to explain that it doesn’t work that way. No matter how many pictures I drew, she dismissively waved her hand and slapped her thigh again.

“Lazy!” Bass lick.

Lazy. Bass lick.

Lazy. Bass lick. That last one was a kickass slap-and-pop, but still.

Goddamn, I’ve come to hate that word. The word being "lazy," in case you forgot.

I quickly changed the course of the conversation to how much we both hate doctors, but since then the fireman thing become almost like a recurring joke of hers. A "bit," if you will. Whenever we see a fire truck, a station, a Dalmatian, a fire hydrant, a sexy fireman calendar, a guy with a mustache, or a burn victim, she starts laughing, or jeering, and doing that stupid fucking thigh slapping gesture and saying “lazy!” in a false, sarcastic, woman-like tone. Of all the ways I've seen her use her upper legs and butt, this has to be my least favorite.

It’s driving me insane and I still haven't found where those smooth-ass bass licks are coming from.

In an effort to show her how wrong she's been and how right I am, I decided to teach her a small lesson. After we made love and she fell asleep, I started a chemical fire in our living room.

I waited calmly and masculinely at the kitchen table as smoke filled the house. Finally, she ran in and said "The house is on fire! We need to get out!"

"No," I stated firmly yet reasonably. Just to be clear, it was our house that was on fire.

I saw shock ripple through her immaculately picked afro. "Matt, what the fuck are you talking about?!" He voice was uncharacteristically nervous and white.

"Nefertiti Johns," I stated calmly, "You need to overcome this insane hatred of firefighters that you've developed in the last 48 hours. Help me help you." However, she would not listen to reason. She used her famous kung-fu chop to subdue me, then escaped the burning house with her collection of red jumpsuits, thigh high white leather boots and cheetah print capes.

Despite the rapidly deteriorating conditions, I remained in the house to prove my point. And proven it was. The firefighters came into the house—unlazily—and pulled me out of the inferno. Yes, one was seriously injured when the roof collapsed and is still in a coma, but can you really put a price on understanding?

My hot girlfriend didn't see it that way, though. Once the paramedics revived me, she laid into me and not in the fun way. She accused me—baselessly— of being a "maniac" and an "idiot" and "the dumbest cracker I ever blessed with a taste of my sweetness." She stormed off and is currently staying with her cousins, Shaft and Huggy Bear.

I genuinely don’t know what to do. I don’t want to leave her. I love her, even more than I hate Shaun. But this is just too much. I feel like I have to be getting psyop’d or something because I can’t stand this anymore and also she was trained by the CIA to be the ultimate combination of beauty and danger.

I’m open to any and all suggestions that don't involve changing myself in some way. At this point I feel like the joke has mortgaged my image of her in what could possibly be an irreparable way. My foxy goddess has been replaced by an equally foxy goddess who occasionally does one thing that is sort of annoying. Ngl though, the voice she uses to say "Lazy!" is pretty funny.

TL;DR: Girlfriend has developed a super annoying bit about how firefighters are somehow lazy and it’s literally the only thing threatening to derail our entire relationship.

EDIT: Wow, certainly didn't anticipate the amount of victim-blaming in these responses. I figure a bunch of these comments are from Shaun's alts.

2ND EDIT: Apparently the victim blaming extends to the local police. Does anyone know a good arson attorney? They say it's illegal to burn down your rented house in a nice neighborhood, even if you have a really good reason. Smdh.

Would they also be soul-sucking monsters, given that her sister peed in Jenna's eye? Or would they be surprisingly well-adjusted, given that one of them raises a daughter would sends drawings to her Aunt Jenna (even if they make her look fat)?

Who the fuck would want to be anything else?

Animal House. Trading Places. Blues Brothers. You would've thought he'd crash out eventually, but nah.

WHY WOULD HE DO THIS?