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Boohoo, Woohoo

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Boohoo: Netflix and Chill

Is it just me or is this phrase simply everywhere? I log in to Facebook. Netflix and chill. I open chat messages. Netflix and chill. I even search through the news. Netflix and . . . oh, for god’s sake!

How many times must my eyes be stabbed with this ridiculous phrase describing something we clearly don’t have the guts to actually say? These trending words have run long past their course, and they must now be left to shrivel and die. The trend has even gone so far as to be haphazardly spray-painted on the corporate sign at Netflix’s official headquarters. Though, I’ll admit I did see that one coming.

But what bothers me most is that the smug little brats of our generation think we’re geniuses for ‘inventing’ a saying that describes something people have actually been doing since the television was invented. “Hey baby, wanna come back to my place to watch Netflix and chill?” Please. Is it really too rude to just say, “let’s have sex on the couch with a movie in the background, just like my parents probably did to conceive me?”

Woohoo: Netflix and Dill

Yesterday, I made a trip to the grocery store. Amongst the abundance of fruits and vegetables I did not buy was an incredibly rare jar of dill pickles. What can I say? Deep down throbbed an unbearable longing I’d harboured for far too long.

Upon stumbling home in the heat of passion, I flung off my shoes, hastily dropped my shopping list to the floor, and threw myself upon the couch. Panting and sweaty, I caressed the remote control in one hand, and my beautiful jar of pickles in the other. I then popped the tin lid and searched up The X-Files, season two.

That night I made sweet love to my pickle jar while Scully complained in the background that aliens don’t exist. At least, I think that’s what happened. As I blissfully crunched and munched, I think I recall Mulder being abducted by a UFO. Or maybe it was the cops; I can’t quite remember.

Being caught up in the ecstasy of Netflix and dill was a pleasure like no other. After polishing off the jar, I exhaled with relief and made a mental note to book a future date with my pickles. Swelling with pride, I had become a man.

So, speaking from experience, if you’re squirming to scratch that itch for pickles, I recommend you relieve yourself by popping open some dill and flipping on the TV. It’ll be a wondrous night filled with excessive dopamine.

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