Several of C. Gallo’s former friends and estranged relatives have accused the famous blogger of multiple counts of inappropriate texting behavior. Some of the allegations span back to 2005, when she received her first Nokia cellphone.
“I would text Claire to invite her on a date for Friday night, and she wouldn’t text me back until Saturday and pretend she had just seen it,” disclosed one man, who asked to be given the pseudonym “Gallolover4L.”
Even members of C. Gallo’s own family came forward, claiming that she rarely responds to group texts. “C. Gallo mutes group texts with family- I checked her phone once when she left the room without it,” said her sister, adding, “She also takes way too many pictures of herself in the car.”
Other complaints centered around C. Gallo’s liberal use of millennial slang in her texts. “…’I don’t feel like talking rn’? She doesn’t feel like talking to a registered nurse? … ‘Totes McGoats’? Is that a new type of handbag? … ‘Your vacation pics are giving me fomo’? Is this a disease?” her Dad asked, scrolling through his text history.
Recently leaked footage from traffic cams show C. Gallo engrossed with her texting and missing entire green lights at some of the busiest intersections in Atlanta, prompting a Tweetstorm against C. Gallo. The critics are organizing around the hashtag #TrueTextsWait
The accusations came as a shock to the elite blogging community. C. Gallo has long-been touted as an advocate for Android users with restricted emoji access, and is admired by many for her lightning-fast text replies.
At the time this article was written, C. Gallo was not available for comment.
C.S. Lewis is beloved among the Christian community for his allegorical fantasy fiction and strong apologetics for the Christian faith. Recently however, the Christian community reeled with shock at the content within manuscripts discovered in the back of Lewis’ work desk. Watson Button, who purchased the desk at an estate sale, explained dazedly “My wife and I expected to maybe find a rough outline for a new fantasy novel or something, but nothing prepared us for this.” What the Buttons discovered was an entire compilation of secret books expressing a wild devotion to health and veganism. For the sake of brevity, only the following titles and brief descriptions are given below.
Surprised by Soy
Lewis describes the exciting twists and turns of his 3 month “meatless Monday” journey.
A Beef Observed
A grave look at the meat production industry, and a call to action to stop cow genocide.
Mere Veganity
Considered a classic among veganists, this book provides a powerful logical case for veganism that even the most avid meat lovers would be hard pressed to dismiss.
The Lychee, the Rib, and the Hearth Stove
This epic novel follows the journey of three children who discover an enchanted hearth stove that sucks them into a world full of wonder and excitement, complete with a benevolent lychee and a sinister rack of spare ribs.
The Problem of Cane (Sugar)
Lewis tackles the universal question, “Why am I craving gummy worms right now?”
The Dietician’s Cashew
A high fantasy novel for children follows the story of a single cashew and his fight to be recognized as an alternate source of protein.
Needless to say, the these books have left Christians to thrash wildly in a bewildering sea of questions. Is Lewis still a credible theologian? Are there latent messages in his fictional stories that may be perverting the minds of our children, leaving them vulnerable to vegan propaganda? Can we trust a man who wouldn’t eat at Chick-fil-A?!
Only one thing is certain- we cannot simply say veganism is a fine diet to adhere to. No! Veganism is either the way to health, or it is utter nonsense. None of us- not one- can be indifferent.
I recently started a new position at my university. It always takes a little time to assimilate to a new work culture, but this department is especially bewildering. It’s not just that I went from a department with entire colloquiums about pair-bonding to a department that’s more interested in base pairs. Nay… nay! It’s more than that.
The very halls of this department are saturated in mystery.
First, there is the Vanishing Succulent Enthusiast. In the break room, the perverted remains of a misguided Pinterest project pervade the counter space. Cacti in a cass dish– why didn’t I think of that?! Oh, bc it’s creepy and nonsensical that’s why. Who put them here? No one knows.. supposedly. Yet they haven’t died, which means **someone** is tending them. Who could this be?
Especially strange is the Spoon of Encouragement embedded within the cacti. Have you ever been feeling down, and just longed for a spoon to come out of nowhere and lift your spirits? Then this break-room is for you! Look no further than within the prickly beasts taking up 40% of the viable counterspace! This utensil of cheer has taught me a simple but profound truth: it’s not the food on the inside of your spoon that’s important, it’s the message on the outside of your spoon! Selah But.. what is the source of this spoon’s sapiency??
Let us now consider the Powder Room du Femme Greenhouse. Gone are the days in which we all had to muster up the courage to poo sans the comfort of nature. It’s so simple— all that unused counterspace is perfect for a full plant display to delight the senses of all restroom patrons. Just breathe it in.*
What remains to be determined is if and how the same VSE is responsible for these potty plants.** Stay tuned!!
The intrigue of the plants was only recently surpassed by the Sock of the Survivor. This laundry enigma debuted on December 19, 2017, tossed carelessly on the floor. Despite some diligent sleuthing, I was never able to identify a Unisocker among my colleagues. Thus, I can only conclude that the sock came from an extra-departmental source. Was it a message from the humanities that was too symbolic for us hard scientists to grasp? Did a frustrated lab tech rip it off in a fit of rage after a botched PCR attempt??
One week later, someone – exactly who was never determined – relocated the sock from the floor to the bench outside of my lab. It remained there for several weeks, generating a buzz of speculation amongst my labmates and I. We considered taking turns wearing it, as a symbol of the post-modern absurdism that permeates our daily lives.
But alas, not even two days ago, the sock was gone. Did the original sock-wearer find it and go away rejoicing? Did the sock creep away to another department floor, desperately seeking a new adventure?
So many questions, very few answers. But that’s why I’m a scientist I suppose – the mysteries, the unknowns, they thrill me!
Something that I have been struggling with lately is how to balance between surrounding myself with “yes” people and surrounding myself with negs people.
One line of thought is- “strong people are able to take negative feedback and criticism about themselves and their ideas. Weak people collapse under criticism and never grow.”
Another line of thought is- “don’t waste your time with people who tear you down. You will be stronger if you surround yourself with people who are for you– who support and encourage you.”
There’s a ring of truth to both of those lines of thought, is there not? Which of these contradictory truths should we follow?
Well buckle up and steel yourself for this mind-poofing revelation: these two ideas aren’t contradictory, they are paradoxical.
Yep, they’re both true… At the same time! Oh snapz!
The key distinction that finally made it all fall into place for me is to recognize the difference between people who are criticizing you because they’re jealous, spiteful, or petty, versus people who are criticizing you BECAUSE they want the best for you.
So how to tell the difference? I’m still trying to hammer this down myself, but one thing that I have found helpful is to determine if your critics also take the time to praise you for what is praiseworthy. I have come to be fairly dismissive of people’s criticism when any and all feedback I get from them is negative. In contrast, I put a lot of stock into the criticism of people who actively go out of their way to be kind and encouraging when it is merited.
To the critiqued: I encourage you to think very carefully about your critics. If there’s evidence that they seem to be criticizing you in a way that is going to build you up over the long run, hold them close and never let them go. If they seem to gloat over your failures and there’s an edge of disdain to their criticisms, kick ’em to the curb!
To the critiquer: If you are someone who often sighs and shakes their head when people don’t follow your brilliant advice, you may want to think about how you are delivering that advice. Perhaps people are ignoring you because you have not taken the time to put any relational context to your wisdom. I’m not suggesting you say insincere niceties, but I genuinely encourage you to find and praise any and all positive attributes of your friends and family… especially if you are prone to lectures. Even if you know that you are critiquing out of a loving concern for their betterment, they are not likely to receive your identification of their weaknesses if you never take the time to praise their strengths.
Okay! I want you all to know that I think you’re all really great for reading my blog, and this advice is truly for your flourishing 😉
In light of the recent sexual assault accusations against… basically every male in Hollywood … I wanted to say somethin’ very quickly to the (hopefully) majority of men who are not sexual predators and never want to be.
How ’bout you fellers start asking -and pausing an appropriate amount of time – before touching any extra-familial lady in any way that is more intimate than say… a handshake.
Even with something as low-key as a kiss, a simple, sweet, and respectful gesture is to ask first before you just go for it.
If you’re afraid that asking will make you seem timid or weak, or the whole experience will be less sexy or something, I beg to differ. The few times that guys have asked me for a smooch, it was yowza yowz.*
So hot 🔥🔥🔥
I bring up this suggestion because I am honestly scared for my heterosexual laddies who have been relying on the tried-and-untrue “read-her-signals” method to figure out when and what to do in a romantical situation. In the current dating climate, relying on your subjective interpretation of a woman’s — who you probably barely know, I may add — “signals” isn’t just unwise or ungentlemanly— it’s downright assinine.
Anyway, I promised brevity and brev I shall be.
If you read any of this read this: I humbly ask you to humbly ask. You have everything to gain and practically nothing to lose… except a future sexual misconduct allegation. And in the meantime, you might make a few ladies feel valued and respected. Give it a try today!
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*Of course there was one time when I said no, but it wasn’t as awkward as you might imagine.. and actually it ended up being much less awkward than it would have been if he had just gone for it. So you ask, and worst case scenario she says no and your ego wimpers a bit vs. you don’t ask, and worst case scenario you think everything’s great, then find out later that she told your entire social circle that you pressured her and made her feel icky.
I don’t like to brag, but my friends tell me* I’m wise.
Seriously. I remember always being the uber-responsible, already-thinking-seriously-about-the-future kind of person, even in frickin’ middle school. Adults marveled at my maturity.
Actual picture of me in middle school, lolz (pixabay)
Now I think my age has caught up with – maybe surpassed, snarky peeps would argue – my maturity level. But if you told me about your probs, I could probably drop a few truth bombs on ya. If you listened to me process my life, I would probably land on the right decision eventually. If you handed me some wisdom nuggets, I would very likely recognize them as wise.
But lately I’ve wondering.. then why all the Gallofoolery?
For realz. Especially when I look back on the last few years, there were some things I said or did … Sometimes not just once, I’m talking chronically! … that are just.. foolish.
What’s most upsetting is that I *knew* better.
I mean seriously.. I’ve been reading over some of my blog posts (e.g. this one, and this one) that I wrote a while ago (I know, I know.. shut up), and there’s some really solid wisdom in some of them, impo. Did I listen to my own advice? Um no… in some instances I did exactly what I advised my readers to not do. *le sigh* Yep, in that sense, I’m an ultra hypocrite.
So why have I, your esteemed Gallosage clothed in linens of wisdom – surrounded by smart, kind, wise people – been acting the fool??
Wellll, it comes down to this: knowing what’s wise doesn’t automatically translate into 1) the ability or 2) the will to do so.
That’s right, y’all. I usually get amazing advice – agree with it wholeheartedly as the best path forward – and then promptly ignore it. Why? Cuz I don’t wanna, that’s why. Or, I try. I try SO hard.. for a day or two. And then usually, my feels start barking so loudly that I’ll do practically anything to appease them and quiet their yapping. And lo, I collapse in a heap of shattered self-idealizations.
What is the path forward? Eh, if I knew 100%, I probably wouldn’t be writing this. But some things I’ve been thinking about —-
Awareness that my wisdom lapses are hardly ever informational. I’m gonna name it so I can disclaim it: sometimes it’s totes rebellion, sometimes it’s totes lack of effort, sometimes a little of both. But I don’t want to fool myself into thinking I need to listen to another 5 sermons or read more theology books before I can move forward.
Praying that I would have a heart that craves what’s good. Not just for me, but for everyone who I come into contact with. I want my feels to align with my noggin’.
Keepin’ it real with select people who I trust and who strike that unicorn blend of never rejecting me for being a fool but also never enabling my foolery.
That’s all I have rn … if you have ever found yourself full of knowledge that doesn’t translate into your actions, let me know what’s helped you actually be your ideals!
Word to yer mamas!
– Gallo
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
* notet this quote is from the movie Emma. Also, who are we kidding.. I love to brag.
So I wrote this post a while back that was fairly straight-forward – I simply took a classic example of an article written for women that teemed with sickening fawning over the female sex and derision toward the male sex. Then, I changed the pronouns so that my lady readers would “woke” and realize that the way we talk about ourselves – especially in relation to men – is often very offensive.
Anyway – it’s one of my only posts that could be considered an “evergreen.” That is – I actually still consistently get daily hits from rando interwebbers on this blog post, even though it died a quick death in fb world.
Today I was looking over the search terms that people use to find my blog, and the overwhelming majority of them are “unknown search terms.”
I usually make up my own data and facts for this blog, but this is for real. Hot of the press! Pie chart made in excel LIKE A BOSS!
But of that small minority of search terms that were actually registered, I was alarmed to find out that almost everyone coming to my page is a creepy male supremacist!
Also real search terms, I promise. Also note these quantities represent 10,000 😉 Also note I praise-handed the terms that I actually want to lead people to my blog 😀
Y’all… I don’t know what to do. My only kinda-long-term-successful post is driving traffic to Galloblog from…. the Milo Yiannapoulos fan club?!?
If you are reading this because you want to woman-hate, move it along. Also, I’m not patheric, YOU ARE! Lolzzzz
Alarmedly yours,
Galloswag
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
I’m sorry if you were expecting an actual point or conclusion to this. This was about as “about nothing” as I’ve ever posted. But holy moly! What hath Galloswag wrought?
I wrote this post a while ago and chickened out before I posted it. Now that I have some distance from it, I realized it is still pure gold. Also, I needed to re-read it *laughs nervously*
I went on a date last night. I realize it’s a terrible idea to tell the entire interwebs about it, but I have so many thoughts and feels about it, I truly don’t care.
To begin – the date activities were downright classy. In the current “ambiguous hangout” culture, it’s refreshing to be treated like an adult woman with value. Actually, the whole experience made me realize how long it’s been since I’ve felt truly valued and – excuse me for getting vuln here – almost made me want to cry. He picked me up. He used the D word beforehand – but also made it clear he wasn’t necessarily expecting this to be the start of a long relationship – so I wasn’t confused about what he was thinking. He told me how fancy-pants he was going to be, so I didn’t have to worry about embarrassing myself by dressing too down or too up. It may seem small, but it’s really considerate to eliminate so much random stress and angst with clear communication.
Then the date itself – I don’t think I’m off base to say he was excited to be out with me and thought I looked attractive. I felt attractive. He was flirty and affectionate without assuming a false romanticism (one of my pet peeves). He asked me about myself and seemed genuinely interested in my answers. He wasn’t intimidated by my PhD and research, but he didn’t fetishize it, either (if anyone ever says “talk nerdy to me,” that’s my cue to split and Uber myself back to the hizzle). He was obviously very smart and had a good career going, but he wasn’t arrogant about it.
Beyond that – we just had a connection. I know that’s cliché, but it’s true. He’s one of the very few people I could imagine having a deep convo with but still be able to laugh uproariously about something ridiculous. So many men I meet 1) immediately launch into convincing me we’re perfect for each other and should formalize our relationship as soon as possible, 2) seem like they’re trying to figure out how well I fit into their life, worldview, social scene, etc. but aren’t interested in my life, worldview, social scene, or 3) they treat me like their bro who they’re kinda sorta attracted to. But he didn’t try to point out everything we had in common, or ask probing questions to determine if I would put up with his video game all nighters, and we didn’t meet up at Chipotle. He treated me like.. a(n attractive) person … who he was getting to know. Cray!
You may be thinking, “Congrats! What’s the prob?” Well, to my great chagrin, we have deeply incompatible worldviews. One part of me wants to push that to the side and take it day by day. But y’all, this is where I need to put my money where my mouth is, so to speak. I either have faith or I don’t. As much as my poor little heart is a little ache-y right now, my brain and my heart both remember how miserable it is to date someone who (directly or indirectly) discourages my faith. So I can’t. Or more accurately, I won’t. As the sassy Jane Eyre said –
“I will hold to the principles received by me when I was sane, and not mad—as I am now. Laws and principles are not for the times when there is no temptation: they are for such moments as this, when body and soul rise in mutiny against their rigour; stringent are they; inviolate they shall be. If at my individual convenience I might break them, what would be their worth? They have a worth—so I have always believed; and if I cannot believe it now, it is because I am insane—quite insane: with my veins running fire, and my heart beating faster than I can count its throbs. Preconceived opinions, foregone determinations, are all I have at this hour to stand by: there I plant my foot.”
I doubt Jane Eyre would approve of this shoe choice, but PLANT THOU FOOTSIES! (pixabay image, not an actual gallofoot)
This is probably frustrating to read. If this was a movie I’d be super pissed that this was the ending. “Why even tell us this?!” Because, with all my snarky criticisms and womansplaining related to dating and men, I wanted to spend at least one post not being glib or sarcastic or bossy, but just real.
I also want the world to know that the type of date I described above is **not** out of fashion.
Single Brochachos I strongly encourage you: if you don’t get excited about being out with a woman, or if you don’t find yourself wanting to create a date that makes her feel valued, then do yourself both a favor and release her to find someone who does.
Single Sischachas I strongly encourage you: if your man doesn’t consistently make you feel valued, honored, and special… move it along.
Final point- it’s okay to appreciate something for what it was, even if it didn’t have the perfect rom-com ending. I loved that date, and I’m so thankful for it.
I’m also thankful to all of you for enduring this embarrassing amount of over-sharing. Promise I’ll go back to being glib and sarcastic very soon. ❤
PLEASE NOTE: I wrote a post a while back with some similar elements, and it really ruffled some feathers. Not trying to stir the pot, just sharing my thoughts/feels.. that’s what blogging is for, yo. If you are seriously offended plz message me about it. *smooch*
When I was a wee sprout, I read this story about two princes who were both given fancy-shmancy jackets by the King (their Pops). Their one charge was to take care of the jackets. The two princes then encounter various catastrophes throughout their day. They both see a man with his wagon stuck in the mud. One prince says, “sorry Charlie, getting you out of that mud would mess up my fly jacket.” But the other prince rolls up his sleeves and helps the stranded guy, and his jacket is flecked with mud. Later, there is a fire in the village. One prince says, “Not my prob,” but the other runs in a burning house and rescues people, and his jacket is burnt with holes. And more things like this happen, and one prince keeps his jacket clean while the other one almost completely destroys his. At the end of the day, the King is outraged that the one prince has really effed up his jacket, but then the townspeople come forward and explain all that he did to help them. The king learns that the jacket was destroyed not through carelessness or disrespect, but through care and respect for others. Then the king publicly honors the ruin’t jacket prince and shames the immaculate-jacket prince for his selfishness.*
I always imagined that the princes were a tad older than this, but one must work with free stock images available to us 😀
The moral of the story, I think, was about value. Yes, the jackets were snazzy and deserved to be cared for. But one prince (rightly) saw that living a life worth living necessitated messing up his jacket.
This is a very long intro to something I’ve been thinking about lately, especially in my grisly old age.
TRYING TO BE BEAUTIFUL WHEN YOU’RE AN AGING WOMAN IS THE WORST.
Think about it – what’s valued in women, beauty wise? Wrinkle free and soft skin is sexy. Having no extra body fat anywhere (EXCEPT in the “right” places, of course) is sexy. Pretty nails are at least.. appreciated, even if they aren’t sexy per se. Grey hair is not really acceptable, much less valued, until you are at least 65. Etc. etc .etc.
What’s valued in men? Wrinkles are fine. Rough hands are sexy. Muscles are sexy. Pretty nails are *not* sexy, imo. Grey foxes are sexy. Etc. etc etc.
I’m not just trying to say “beauty standards for women are unfair!” Plenty o’ people have already said that. My point is that the more men live their lives and DO STUFF, the more sexy they become. But for women, the more we live active lives, the less sexy we become.
To achieve the perfect beauty regimen, women should do nothing but lounge around in a spa. They shouldn’t do anything with their hands so they’ll stay soft and our nails won’t get janky. We shouldn’t go outside in any weather that’s too cold, or our skin will dry out. Too windy, we’ll get wind-chapped. Too sunny, and we’ll get wrinkles. And to maintain our 900 calories/day to keep up our prepubescent figures, we should be practically comatose. Oh, and we probably shouldn’t do any real work so we don’t accidentally get real functional muscles.
Pffftttttt.
I would like to propose to women everywhere that we think about our looks like the prince did his jacket. Should we abuse it just to abuse it? No. There’s no honor in binge drinking or refusing to exercise. But… am I going to refuse to go hiking on a sunny day or do science lab work (it’s very rough on the hands, tbh) or do anything remotely stressful so that I can make sure my skin doesn’t wrinkle, my hands don’t get rough and calloused, and my hair doesn’t gray?
“Fooie patooie” – C Galloswag
Naw. Let’s live our lives, ladies, and let the hands roughen, the wrinkles deepen, and the hairs grey. So what if the sleeping beauties are more beautiful than us? The Prince Charmings can have ’em. I’ll be fighting communism with Prince Janky-Jacket 😉
How to be beautiful: lay around and do nothing, ever.
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*I read this story over 20 years ago, so I’m basically making up all the details. But this was essentially what happened 😀
It has come to my attention that I have no chill. Especially when it comes to social media. I want to post every hilarious* thought I have. I want to document every good hair day with a tasteful selfie. I want to share every inspirational quote that bolsters my spirits. I want to declare my eternal love to my family members on the reg. I want to share all the beauty I come across in my otherwise very ugly day**. I refer to myself as Galloswag. Galloswag!! No. chill.
If you’ve read any of my other posts.. or you’re my fb friend or follow me on ig… you’re probably thinking, “Tell me something I don’t know, sister.” yeah yeah yeah. But what you may *not* know is that almost every time I post something, I’m filled with self-loathing.
Srsly. I genuinely admire people who barely use social media. There’s something just.. cool.. about someone who can get a promotion or go to a lit concert or win free tickets on the radio and *not* feel compelled to make sure everyone remotely connected to them knows about it.
I always assume people with social media chill aren’t posting much because their lives are so gangster they don’t have time to bother with us low-lifes who are posting a filtered picture of a misshapen green bean that came out of their can at lunch.
So anyway. I say all this because — in my typically non-chill fashion — I feel the need to declare to you all that I’m going to try to be more chill. Leave a little mystery to my life. If I’m overhwhelmed by the hilarity of my own thoughts, I will text it to someone specific. Or, just treasure in my own heart how funny I am. Same with my accomplishments.. good hair days etc…. all of that stuff just suddenly seems… like none of your bus-nass.
Alsooooo, begging a friend to be my designated “keeper of the fb pw” has greatly reduced my obsessive-compulsive fb checking / posting. So if you want to jump on the chill surf board, I suggest relinquishing control of your social media accounts for a while to give yerself a chance to “reset.”
Aren’t I cool rn??? You don’t even have to answer. I don’t need you, interweb world! HA!
Forever yours– even tho I’m cooler than you,
~Gallochill
— EDITORIAL NOTES —
*Hilarious to me. I realize some of you may think my jokes are lame. I say to you then: UNFRIEND ME RN YOU SOULLESS HUMORLESS OGRE
**Srsly, y’all should see what I do for my day job. Nm, you really shouldn’t. Especially if you work for PETA. O_O
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