Saturday, October 23, 2010

poor baby

i use facebook. i am a prolific facebooker. i make statements, i post links, i share recipes and i, apparently, pick fights.

i recently had a former acquaintance from college inform me that, based on my disinterest/annoyance with sports fans (i live next to a sports bar and walk out of my doorway through sports puke), i was "an idiot who had lost his respect." apparently a less than enthusiastic approach to football was all it took.

i can tell you three things about this person. 1) he is rather unfortunately and prematurely bald. 2)he was a republican in college. 3) his birthday is four days after mine.

so after he called me an idiot i sent him a nice letter telling him that everything was ok. that i only knew three things about him and that there was no need for name calling.

he has not responded.

so i've been considering this. for all of the social networking i do, all of the poetry i share, all of the news links i pass on, all of the people i introduce, all of the music i point out--nothing lights more of a fire than these random statements i make. i'm tending to piss people off--and it is surprisingly easy.

so far these arguments have all been with men. men who say one snarky thing to me and then block me and run away. it's been frustrating mostly, since i'm not trying to be mean...

but seriously, suck my fucking dick you god damn babies.

the end.

rules by which to live and dine

1. if you stiff the waitress you will get chlamydia and die.

2. no, that does not come with chicken. chicken is gross. what? were you born in a barn? obviously not because if you were you would know that chicken is disgusting.

3. yes there is salt in that. there is salt in everything. it's a fucking restaurant. if you want to eat bland shit then go home, cook for yourself, manage your own bloated ass and leave me in peace.

4. you want the filet mignon well done? you are a god damn moron. go next door to the liquor store and buy yourself a beef stick.

5. oh, you can't eat cheese? you didn't realize the cheese ravioli had cheese in them? you perceptive sonofabitch! no surprise you lived this long.

6. double dressing on the side? afraid i might under-sauce you, fatty?

7. that's not what you ordered? well it's what you asked for--what you really mean is "i dunt speek IIItalyen"

8. do i have a cocktail menu? do you have ID?

9. you don't see a kids menu? you also, apparently, can't take a hint.

10. you're a twenty-something dining out with twenty or so of your "friends" and you are surprised when i add an 18% service charge. cute. get used to it you cheap fuckers. the world doesn't owe you shit and neither do i.