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What Is The Acceptable Level Of Anger One Should Have For Their Parents Not Giving Them Their Netflix Account Information?


Been sitting on this blog for awhile and finally remembered it and had the time to knock it out. Quick back story: I was seeing someone over the Summer and bummed her Netflix account info for streaming movies. Sue me. Used it at my place in the city, my laptop and logged in at my parents place maybe once. We were watching most of them together anyways. Naturally things fizzled out because I’m completely incapable of making a good thing last over 6 weeks. Anyways, she gave me a bunch of crap about me not listening to her enough or something, I don’t know I wasn’t really paying attention, but once it was called off I made a conscience effort to not use her Netflix account anymore. I mean I’ll talk about things to my friends behind her back and state on the record I have never felt Stevie Wonder nipples like that in my life, and I probably never will again. But I’ll be damned if I will ever maliciously use someone’s Netflix account unwarranted. Chivalry may be dying but it isn’t dead.

A month or so passes and I get a text out of the blue from said girl stating, and I quote, “You won’t fucking talk to me but please feel free to abuse my Netflix account. Asshole.” Shook me more than Michael J. Fox dancing in an earthquake. Responded back claiming both innocence and ignorance, but to no avail. The coffin was already nailed.

The following week I’m eating dinner with my parents and while attempting to divert any conversation away from the disappointment that is my job/finances/life, I bring up I might have to finally cave and get a Netflix account to catch up on Breaking Bad. My mother conveniently chimes in that they need one too because the one they were using just “crashed”. I go to my mom, who is as technologically literate as a mentally handicapped chimp, “Crashed? What do you mean?”. She responds, “Oh we were using (Summertime Girl)’s account and all of a sudden it crashed and doesn’t work anymore.”


Ignoring the fact my parents sewered me, again, I immediately go into mooch mode like any American son should and ask if I can have their new Netflix account info so I can stream that shit again. My mother’s response, “No, you’re an adult and were going to get it anyways.” I explain it costs nothing to them and they can have like 5 separate users on the same account and still receive a steadfast, “No, get it your own damn self.”

Wait, what? What supposed loving parent doesn’t let their struggling son in on their Netflix account that doesn’t cost them dick? And, yeah Smitty’s poor go cipher gas and store it in your empty cans of tuna blah blah blah, but it’s not about the money at all. It’s about the principle. I love my Mom and Dad and appreciate the life they’ve provided by successfully raising 3 boys to a life of no real jobs or health insurance, but if you don’t feel some sort of anger as a child over this then you have less of a soul than the parents denying it to begin with or the nearest acceptable Ginger to make fun of.

So what is the acceptable level of anger in this situation?

Vote 1 for Docile* Inner Rage and 10 for “Fuck It! We’ll do it live!” Chris Brown to Rihanna’s Face Type Batshittidy:

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*Originally spelled docile, dosial. Thank you very much public highschool and Susquehanna University education.