Here’s the thing.

All you people saying how ’smart’ you are all the time? You’re not. If you have to tell people you are smart? Guess what. You ain’t.

‘Oh I got straight A’s in school, I was an honor student, I was so smart.’ <- every time you say blog that, I imagine that your school is one of the worst in the nation and THAT is how you managed to ‘graduate at the top of your class’. Go on, tell me your SAT scores. LIKE IT MATTERS ANYMORE!

Christ. Do something to SHOW me you’re smart, like not sounding like an idiot all the time, or researching what-the-fuck high octane gas is and how it differs from low octane gas, and then we can talk about all these mysterious A’s you’ve been getting.

How Not to Win Friends and Influence People. And by people, I mean me.

There’s this guy. Isn’t that how all of my stories start? Sometimes I wish I liked women just to give my shitty stories some fucking variety.

Moving on….

There’s this guy…we went out twice. A friend of a friend. Let’s call him, um, Ren. He was the short, ugly sidekick to Stimpy, right? Good. Like I said, we went out twice and he scared himself because apparently he didn’t realize that GIRLS LIKE TO KISS. Especially after a date. Never in my life did I think that counted as “moving too fast.” Thank god I didn’t reach for his zipper. His dick probably would have ended up in his own damn throat.

He im’d me on Friday to congratulate me on graduating and threw in some feeder lines like “you deserve this moment” and “i’m so happy for you.” Blah, blah, blah. So maybe this means we’re friends?

Well, surprise, no it doesn’t. I im’d the bastard today to see if he owns a typewriter. Since the im convo was primarily me, me, me, I figured I’d throw him a bone and asked him to tell me one good thing that happened to him today.

His answer? “I followed a woman with a great ass down the hallway and into the elevator.”

Lovely, Stalker Ren.

He doesn’t seem to understand that being friends with girls does NOT mean talking about girls with that girl. I don’t want to hear about her ass. Or her boobs. Or her hair. All it does is drive home the point that I WASN’T GOOD ENOUGH FOR YOU. Or, at least you didn’t think that I was good enough for you. Clearly I’m better than you deserved. I am not your wingman. I am not your buddy.

So, I did the only appropriate thing and pointed out his social gaffe and logged off before he could respond.  Sometimes the only way to deal with assholes is to act like an asshole too.

But the gun isn’t loaded

Dude, my last post was so premature.

He’s still checking my damn blog.

Hi Foot, Here’s the Gun

So, since a chunk of my blog had become passively-aggressive toward Ludge, I figured I could use it as a tool to maybe make stop reading it once and for all.  Of course, this wasn’t exactly easy…because if I made him not read the blog, he wouldn’t read the blog and I couldn’t use my statcounter to keep a half assed eye where he was.   And he wouldn’t know how I was doing..that I was ok and have a job (sort of) and am sleeping with a three-nippled rock star (that’s the passive aggressive part). The horror!

But I did it anyway. I was open and honest and he read it (thanks statcounter!) and he hasn’t checked since.  Foot, gun, shoot.  But I think I’ll feel better about it as soon as I stop feeling like a complete tool.

Willful Ignorance

People that are willfully ignorant really piss me off. It’s one thing to not know a basic fact. It’s another to just not believe it. Especially when it’s oh, say, science.

It just makes you look like a conspiracy theorist.

I had a conversation that went like this:

Me: Well because of A, then B, and of course C.

Him: No, that’s not how it works at all. That’s ridiculous.

Me: Uh…what? It’s science, it’s not an opinion.

Him: Please. Whatever. I’ll tell you what, we’ll look it up, how about that.

Me: Dude. I already looked it up. I know that it’s true.

Him: Whatever, that’s not how it works.

Ok, let’s recap.

You admitted that you haven’t looked it up, aka you don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.

But it just doesn’t sound right to you.

So you refuse to believe me, when I have actually researched it and know what the fuck I am talking about.

Conclusion?

You are a douchebag.

Dear MisRepresentin’

This doesn’t quite apply, but I like the sentiment.

MISSY HIGGINS LYRICS

“Where I Stood”

I don’t know what I’ve done
Or if I like what I’ve begun
But something told me to run
And honey you know me it’s all or none

There were sounds in my head
LIttle voices whispering
That I should go and this should end
Oh and I found myself listening

‘Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don’t know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
‘Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

See I thought love was black and white
That it was wrong or it was right
But you ain’t leaving without a fight
And I think I am just as torn inside

‘Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don’t know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
‘Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood

And I won’t be far from where you are if ever you should call
You meant more to me than anyone I ever loved at all
But you taught me how to trust myself and so I say to you
This is what I have to do

‘Cos I dont know who I am, who I am without you
All I know is that I should
And I don’t know if I could stand another hand upon you
All I know is that I should
‘Cos she will love you more than I could
She who dares to stand where I stood
Oh, she who dares to stand where I stood

I had a bunch of bitter posts planned for today, but then I went and got all emotional on my other blog and now all of the bitterness has been sucked from me.  And I’m bitter about that.  So there.

You, with the sunglasses

I’m talking to you, friend. You’re wearing those stupid ass HUGE sunglasses. Elvis used to rock them, and he rocked them hard. You? You look like a fucking moron.

Or a dirty trucker.

Just take them off, for the love of all that is good and holy.

You do not look cute!

Left My Heart in SanGaySisco

Oh, and SanGayA? Fuck you and you upside down penis.

Thank you for allowing me the privilege of talking to you for HOURS ON END as you drove across the country to your new “job.” I really didn’t have anything else to do. Bar classes? Eh, whatever. They didn’t mean a thing.

And, thank you for never calling me again, even when Penny died. All that bullshit about you being the Anti-Ludge was just that…bullshit. You are just as sad and cold hearted. I would have cheated on you too, if only to give myself the chance to feel my body next to someone with a beating heart.

And, most of all, thank you for the email about the girls you’re both fucking. They will leave you, like I did. If they don’t leave you, they are more emotionally bereft than you are. Congratulations.

Also…the underside of the penis is more sensitive than the top. The surgeons must have reattached yours incorrectly. I wonder if it’s too late to send them an Edible Arrangement.

Dude, if you’re bitching about how sick the pre-natal vitamins make you feel, you ARE NOT ready for pregnancy.