The Battle Between Kirk and Spock

Things have been weird lately. Last Thursday I was laid off from the job I've had for the past three and a half years, and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. Mainly I'm excited because I've deluded myself into seeing it as a great adventure (NOW I CAN DECIDE WHAT I REALLY WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE! WAHOO!), but then the logical side insists on popping in fairly regularly with a rather (un)helpful and panic-making "Um, hey there, Captain Kirk, what are you going to do about a paycheck?"

The rest of the conversation goes a little like this:

Captain Kirk: "This is a good thing! I can figure out what it is that I really want to do with my life!"

Mr. Spock: "Well, yes, this is probably a good thing, but let's not get too carried away. Don't start dreaming of becoming a squirrel wrangler and starting your own squirrel farm just yet. You need to start searching for more...logical jobs that will earn actual money."

CK: "BAH! I wasn't even going to start a squirrel farm. I want to write! I want to write a novel and never have to go into an office again because fuck. that. noise."

MS: "...okay. But maybe find a job to earn money while you write? That sounds like a better idea. Let's do that. Because food is nice. So is having a car and a place to live."

CK: "But I don't want to do that. I just want to write. I want to wake up whenever I want to and just write things."

MS: "I'm pretty sure that's not how it works. But I'll humor you. What have you written?"

CK: "..."

MS: "..."

CK: "..."

MS: "...have you written anything?"

CK: "I've written...things."

MS: "What things?"

CK: "Well...ideas. For things."

MS: "...Ideas for things? What does that even mean? Like a grocery list? A note on a calendar? A text message?"

CK: "NO! I've written ideas down for book and short story ideas."

MS: Sigh. "Well, I guess we have to start somewhere. Tell me about these ideas."

CK: "Well, there was this idea that I had for a vampire book.."

MS: "Hasn't that been done?"

CK: "Yes, but not like this! I was going to take everything that makes the main character a vampire and throw it out the window! Sunlight won't kill him or make him sparkle."

MS: "Well, thank God for that."

CK: "And garlic and crosses won't repel him. He's not really immortal, and he doesn't really drink blood."

MS: "So...he's not a vampire?"

CK: "No, he is! See how it's different?"

MS: "Oh, I see how it's different. It's a vampire book about a normal guy. Is he at least goth?"

CK: "That's offensive."

MS: "It most definitely is. Please let that idea go to the Great Idea Farm in the sky. What else?"

CK: "If you're going to have that kind of attitude about it, I'm not going to tell you anymore."

MS: "I'm sorry. Really. Please tell me more."

CK: "You know I can detect sarcasm even in thought right? I can feel you rolling your eyes"

MS: "Of course you can. They're your eyes too. Now, what are your other ideas?"

CK: "..."

MS: "..."

CK: "..."

MS: "...are you going to tell me?"

CK: "Fine. I was thinking about writing a parody of Fifty Shades of Grey."

MS: "Oh good lord, we're going to starve."


So yeah.


This post was originally going to be very ranty because of what bullshit the corporate world is, but then I started looking up Neil Gaiman quotes, and that mellowed me out. Gaiman's the man.

Oh, and if there is anyone that reads my blog in the hopes that they'll get to see that life has taken a dump on my chest:

I guess Gaiman didn't mellow me out that much. Whoops.

Questions All White People Need to Answer

So, I was perusing Buzzfeed for articles to read...okay, listicles because who has time for actual articles? Not me, that's who. Actually that's a lie too- I have the time, just not the attention span. Anyway, I came across this article listicle titled, "40 Questions All White People Need to Answer", and I realized that while I am not "all white people", I am at least one white person, and that I might be able to provide some insight. I hope you don't mind that it's implied that I'm speaking for you as well. If you do mind, shut your pie hole- go get a blog and then you can speak for me.

1. Why do white people call guacamole 'guac'?
Honestly, this one baffles and annoys me as well. I can't stand when words are needlessly abbreviated. That being said, I've been guilty of doing this, but I like to lie to tell myself that I'm doing it ironically, and even then I kind of hate myself a little bit. That food item does not look delish; it looks delicious. Was it really necessary to take off the 'us' sound? Probably not. You've saved no time and look like a pretentious ass. So a prententiass. But back to 'guac' specifically. I can only assume that these people are self-conscious about the way they pronounce guacamole; maybe it comes out of their guac-hole sounding more like "whack-a-mole". I don't know. 

2. Why do white people like bearded men and horses so much?
Beards when done properly are glorious. They just are. Horses are also majestic fucking creatures. Even if they're a bit stupid sometimes,they're still nice to look at. The horses aren't bad either. I jest, gentlemen. But seriously keep doing what you're doing with your beards. Shit's nice.

Seriously. Look at this shit. LOOK AT IT.

3. Why do white people like comparing arm tans?
Look, depending on where we live, we might see sun for two days of the year, so for some it isn't often that they get past the "Casper" point of the color spectrum. When we get even a little bit of color, we get unreasonably excited. And fuck the bitch that has a darker tan than us. Seriously, is it possible to steal her skin for ourselves? But honestly, I think it's more of a thing in the younger crowd. I'm 29, and frankly I don't give a shit if I get a tan or not. As long as I don't burn (and I inevitably do nowadays), I'm good.


4. WHY DO WHITE PEOPLE LIKE CHEESE SO MUCH?
Um, excuse me. Why the fuck are you yelling about cheese? Maybe the question should be why do you seem so irate that white people love cheese. What did cheese ever do to you? Did it sleep with your wife? Murder your family? Are you lactose intolerant? I get it, some cheese can be shifty. Some of it looks disgusting, smells like feet, but taste heavenly, while other types look like the perfectly normal type of cheese that you can take home to your mom, but then you take a bite and "HOLYHELLWHATTHEFUCKISTHATITTASTESLIKESATANSASSHOLE!!" But I still don't think the problem lies in white people loving cheese. I think you might need to reevaluate your anger towards the love they share.

5. Why do white people like to explore attics?
Because we know we won't die if we do. And we're kinda dumb. Also, antiques. White people love that shit.

6. Why do white people like sand Dunes so much?
...we- we do? I don't remember getting the memo on that. Hold on, let me check. *shuffles through white people memos* Nope, totally not there. Are there a lot of us out there that like sand Dunes an unhealthy amount? Also is there a reason we're capitalizing 'dunes'? Then again, I live in America, we capitalize on everything. See what I did there? Good, let's move on.

7. Why do white people like Kiss?
This is going to sound blasphemous, but honestly I don't get this one. Maybe it's just me, but I'm not a big fan, so I can't be much help on this one.

8. Why do white people like the woods so much?
Maybe see 5? I don't know. The woods can be kind of cool. The sounds, sights, and smells of the great outdoors can be awe-inspiring. But sometimes you run across a bear or mountain lion, and while that might be neat and all, you might want to move your ass. You look delicious.

9. Damn why do white people like pumpkin so much pumpkin pie pumpkin latte etc…
I get it. Pumpkin is delicious, but I think we white people overkill it with the pumpkin stuffs. But damn it, pumpkin spice latte, I don't know how to quit you. I'm pretty sure there's crack in there. Starbucks knows exactly what they're doing. Also I think it has something to do with it being a seasonal thing. If it were a year-round thing, I don't think it would be such a big deal.

10. Why do white people like playing in the snow. Snow is cold.
Snow is awesome. Well, the stuff I see in pictures. I live in Texas, so I feel like I'm not the best person to shed light on this one. For me, it's like the pumpkin spice latte- if I had to deal with it for a good chunk of the year, yeah, fuck that shit. I would not be one of those white people. But I, like, NEVER see it, so when I do, shit yes, snow! For about 10 minutes, and then I'm done because as you accurately observed, snow is cold.

11. Why do white people like Drake so much?
We do? Where the fuck are my white people memos going?? Umm....let me see....he's Canadian? That one guy now known as Starbucks Hands posted a video that went viral, and then celebrities spoofed the shit out of it. And it was the best thing ever. That had to have helped Drake out with the white people crowd, right?

12. why do white people like hummus so much. it's literally chick peas
What is with all of these "questions" not being questions? See what I did there? Again again? Three times there have been squiggly marks at the end of my question; those are called question marks. Please for the love of god, use them. I make grammar mistakes, so I get it- it happens. But seriously, where are the question marks? Were they abducted? Abandoned? We should go find them. Also, I don't get the hummus thing either. I'm not a huge fan. The one time I had it, it tasted like cardboard, so now I'm like, "Hmm....no thanks. I better not." 

13. Wait why do white people like shark week so much?
Because sharks are awesome! Actually, I find them terrifying and awe-inspiring in equal parts. On a documentary on The Discovery Channel? Shit yes. I will watch all 10 billion hours of the same shows they've aired for the last 20 years. In the ocean? Fuck that, I'm out. It was probably seaweed, but I'm not taking any chances. 

14. Why do white people like candy corn so much. I literally see 7 people in my class eating it
Most people I know can't stand the stuff, but I, on the other hand, love it. I don't know why. I just can't stop eating it. Just chalk it up to us being fucking weird. Also, question marks. Fuck. But +1 for using literally correctly. If there were, in fact, 7 people eating candy corn. If not, shame on you- I trusted you.

15. why do white people like ray ban wayfarers so much smh
....I kind of hate you on so many levels. Let me count the ways: 1) Punctuation, motherfucker. Do they have punctuation where you're from? 2) Capitalization. Fuck. It's not that fucking hard. I've done it a lot in this post. Why is it so hard to capitalize a few letters? Why? 3) "smh"? Stop it. Stop it right now. That abbreviation annoys me more than any of the others, except lmbo (just say ass, you goody two-shoes). 4)Why do white people liking Ray-Ban Wayfarers cause you to shake your head? Do you really have nothing else going on in your life that these are the concerns you deal with? If so, that's another reason to hate you. Just move on, man. Who cares?

16. Why do white people like going to abandon houses or other places like have you not seen horror movies
Definitely see #5. 

17. Why do white people like putting their bare feet on the dashboard
I can't even. I just can't. You were nowhere near your 140 character limit. Why couldn't you have thrown in a question mark? It's not hard. Just trust me. But to answer your "question", I don't think this is exclusively a "white person thing".

18. Why do white people like to pick their own strawberries so much?
*shuffles through memos* Nope, not there. I pick my own strawberries at the grocery store because I don't want a bunch of bruised, gross strawberries. Shit sucks, yo. I'm guessing it's because they like to know the strawberries are fresh off the...vine? Bush? I don't know how strawberries work.

19. Why do white people like to cuddle so much during storms?
Have you ever done it? I'm guessing not because had you, you wouldn't be asking such a silly question. Get your cuddle on, fool. 

20. Why do white people like nutella so much
Um, see #19. Except replace cuddle with Nutella. Or don't. Cuddle while eating Nutella. As long as the other person has their own jar because Joey doesn't share food.

21. Why do white people like kissing dogs in the mouth? Acting like it's good luck or something
....w-what? I think you need new white people. Stop hanging out with those white people. STAT. Some people don't mind their dogs kissing them on the mouth, but I am not one of those people. I have watched my dogs lick their own asses, eat poop, vomit and then try to eat it. So no. No, no, and no. No judgement if you're one of those white people, but it's just not for me. I like my mouth ass-, poop-, and vomit-free.

22. what is a "color run" and why do white people like them so much
So you can use quotation marks, but no punctuation or capitalization? You know what? Whatever. Um, a color run is a marathon of sorts where you get dry paint thrown on you as you run. It's pretty fun. I don't know why. It just is. I hate running, but if you're going to paint with all the colors...of the wind (?), I'm down.

23. Why do white people like to hunt ghosts?
Sigh...you're just not getting it. We do stupid shit. See #5.

24. why do white people like avocados so much
I'm a weird one. I hate avocados, but I love guacamole. So I don't know. Apparently they're good for you and shit, so there's that.

25. Why do white people like Christmas music so much that shit gets annoying
Christmas music is awesome for about 10 minutes, and then shit gets old. I used to work at a mall, so I'm right there with you.

26. Why do white people like that Thrift Shop song so much?
Look, a Canadian and a white guy are about as close as we're going to get to having street cred, so just let us have this one. Also Macklemore and Ryan Lewis have some pretty decent music.

27. why do white people love hot glue
We do? I mean, yeah, it can be useful, but I wouldn't say we "love" it. Have you been getting your information from Pinterest?

28. so why do white people love full house so much idgi
I don't get why you don't know how to type. So we're even.

29. WHY DO WHITE PEOPLE MAKE INSTAGRAM ACCOUNT FOR THEIR PETS
This, I think, does warrant yelling. I don't get it either, friend. I mean why can't you just post pictures of your pets on your own Instagram? Do they really need their own? I mean, how many selfies can you take when you don't have thumbs?

30. why do white people put their kids on leashes
Remember how I said we do stupid shit? Well that starts at an early age, so therefore, leashes.

See? This is why we can't have nice things.

31. why do white people love mason jars
Well from my experience it's because we're gluttons for punishment. We like spending hours hunched over decorating them, putting fake (or real) flowers in them so our cats can eat them. We're givers like that. Also, fuck my cat.

Dick.

32. why do white people love the beach so much.. yall are always fucking there i dont get it
Uhh....I don't get you. The beach is lovely. It has water, sun, attractive people (hopefully), and sand Dunes (which we fucking love apparently). What more could you ask for? Also, are we always there? Are we?? Or are you just exaggerating the situation? Mmhmm...thought so.

33. Why do white people dance like this though
Sigh...I don't know. Some are better than others. Actually there are quite a lot of us that are fucking amazing dancers. Sadly, I'm not one of them. But it's like we all got together and said, "What is the most awkward dance that we can do that will make everyone uncomfortable?" And then something like this was born.

34. Why do white people say "idear" instead of idea? Where the fuck is there an "r" in that word
Don't. Even. Get. Me. Started. I hate this. For me, this is close to nails-on-a-chalkboard annoying.

35. WTF is gluten exactly and why do white people hate it so much
Let me Google that for you. And some white people hate it because they have an intolerance to it. Or at least that's what they were told.

36. Why do white people love 'turn down for what' so much
*shrug* See #26? I don't really know. I'm old.

37. Why do white people love cooking with beer so much
I guess it's good. I prefer to drink mine though.

38. Why do white people always say "have a good one" have a good what?
Because we're friendly, goddamn it. Fuck. Have a good whatever you want. Examples: Have a good night! Have a good life! Have a good birthday! Have a good murder! It's whatever you want it to be.

39. Why do white people gotta be climbing everything.
Because we can. And you can too! Go climb the shit out of that tree! Have white people been lying to you? Leading you to believe that this is a predominately white thing? Are these the same white people that told you that they make out with their dogs for luck? White people, man...we're some shady fucks. I think we were trying to keep all the climbing for ourselves.

40. why do white people say "for Pete's sake"??? Who is Pete?
Look, we really care about Pete. Every white person has a Pete, and we've got his back.

So in conclusion, I'm a terrible white person. Sorry I've been lying to everyone. I feel terrible. Really, I do. Just kidding! 

Angry

I’m so angry. I’m angry about so many things that I’m not even sure where to begin. Actually, that’s not true. I’m mostly angry at myself. I’m so angry that I’m turning 30 this year and have done almost absolutely nothing with my life. I know I’m not that old, but I just feel like I could have done so much more with my life up to this point and I haven’t. I still have no idea what I want to do; I wanted to be a psychotherapist, I wanted to be a profiler with the FBI, I wanted to be a psychotherapist again, then I wanted to be an astronomer, then I wanted to be a photographer, and now I want to be a writer. And what have I done about any of those things? What have I done about being a writer? Yes, I’m writing this now, but goddamn it, that is not what I mean. I want to write novels. I have the ideas, but if given too much time with those ideas, I hate them and stop writing them. Even this- I hate this. I want to stop writing this because I hate the sound of my own voice in my head. I hate that this table is wobbly and is distracting me. I hate that I can’t effectively smoke a cigarette and type this at the same time. I’m angry because when I do start to write, I veer horribly off course and don’t get to the point. I’m so goddamn angry. About everything and nothing all at the same time.

I’m angry that compared to my peers, I suck at being an adult. I don’t even know how to go about being a real, live, responsible adult. I feel like I’m walking around pretending to be an adult, but really have no goddamn idea what I’m doing. I have no idea how 401(k)s work; if I had to do my own taxes, I would be audited, I’m sure; I hate cleaning, so I don’t; I hate doing laundry, so I don’t; I hate working out even though I need to because fuck you metabolism, but I don’t; I love playing bullshit games on my Nook, so I do. ALL THE TIME.  I’m so goddamn angry. I’ll be perfectly honest, I don’t really like me all that much right now. I don’t like that I’m lazy and lack focus. I don’t like that I do nothing to fix that. I don’t like that I know that I need to fix it and how, but I don’t. I’m embarrassing. I’m awkward. I’m insensitive. I’m overly sensitive. I’m hypocritical. I’m condescending. I feel like I’m not a good friend, daughter, sister, aunt, girlfriend, employee, or person. Why anyone would want to be around me, I haven’t the slightest clue. God, I hate how fucking whiny this sounds.

Don’t get me wrong. I’m not always angry. I’m also happy at times, sad at times, and other emotions that I don’t feel like thinking of. I’m sometimes silly and hyper. But I feel like my go-to emotion is angry. Even when I’m joking around, there’s a bite to it. I feel like it takes so much for me to move from the emotional range of “blah” to “holy shit, this is awesome”, but at the drop of the hat, I can go from “life’s pretty great” to “I will fucking cut you”. Mind you, I never would. I’m an angry person, but I am not a violent person. I don’t want to hurt anyone. In fact, if I feel like I’ve hurt someone, be it physically or mentally, I can’t stand it. I just want to make it right. Unless you’re an asshole and hurt someone else. In which case, I fully stand behind my side-eye and snark.

What kills me so much is that I have nothing about which to be angry. I have an amazing boyfriend, I have amazing friends and family, I have a great job, we’re about to get a beautiful apartment. I should be so happy, and I’m going to contradict myself for a moment and say that I am. I am happy, but some days I’m just so goddamn angry. 

I'm Getting Tired of these Motherfucking Bugs in My Motherfucking Life

Oh, hey there, friend. I didn't see you sitting there! Have you been here the whole time? Since September?! Jeez, sorry about that! You should have thrown something at me!

Anyway, I'm back! Sorry for the delay...I've been super busy, super lazy, and generally unproductive when it has come to my writing. I am going to change this though (fingers crossed!).

This was going to be a post about my road rage, but in light of my current situation, I will put that one on hold for a moment. My new post is inspired by my unbridled hatred of all things bugs. Except butterflies, rolly pollies (you know, their scientific name), and bees (as long as they're making honey and staying the fuck away from me). All of the rest of them can go fuck themselves. I feel like my blog, like my house and backyard, has become overrun by bugs, namely ants and June bugs. I fucking hate them. HATE THEM. It's gotten so obnoxious as of late that I am currently weighing the pros and cons of just saying "Fuck it" and setting our house on fire. I'm pretty sure that if I do that we probably won't get our security deposit back, but I'm also pretty sure we won't get it back anyway because our landlords are shady assholes like that. In fact, I'm not sure that the landlords didn't send the plague of sugar ants and June bugs themselves.

Right now I'm sitting out on our patio writing this because it was nice out, so in a way, I'm doing this to myself. But goddamn it, this is MY backyard. I don't care that it's outside and technically outside is where the bugs are free to be. When you are quite possibly the stupidest fucking bug alive, next to the fly, you don't get to live. Also, you shouldn't be called June bugs; you should be called hell-spawn's (aka tree roaches) retarded cousin. Seriously, other than flies, what other creature repeatedly bashes itself against things? You are seriously giving the bug community a bad name which was already pretty fucking bad to begin with. I just had to rip off my goddamn pants in my backyard because one of you perverted twats decided it was a good idea to go exploring. Well guess what? Now you're fucking dead and I'm pants-less and missing a shoe. No one wins. NO ONE. AND STOP LANDING ON MY GODDAMN LAPTOP! My bets are that if you're stupid enough to repeated bash yourself against the sliding glass door, that you're not going to be very helpful to me in writing my blog. I don't know any June bug editors, and I plan to keep it that way. Can you imagine shaking hands with one of those fuckers? Oh wait, of course you can. You ARE one of those fuckers. Well, news flash, you six legged twat, I don't fucking like you and I will end you. Do you not see the wasteland of your fallen brethren? I did that. I AM THE ONE WHO SPRAYS. 

Also it's not June. Get a fucking calendar and get your shit together. I know, I know. It's better to be early than late, but no. In your case it's better never than dead. So kindly see yourself the fuck away from me.

Now. On to you, ants. Oh, you thought I had forgotten about you? Ha ha...that's goddamn adorable. You guys are unforgettable. Don't thank me- that wasn't a compliment. My hatred for you guys is on par with my hatred for the June bugs and roaches. I would say spiders too, but you know what? They're at least useful. They eat other bugs. You eat my food or at least get into my food and ruin it so I can't eat it. Do you see the problem for me here? Spiders = okay if they stay the away from me because they eat bugs that bother me (hint, hint); You = not okay because you eat what I want to eat.

Exactly.

I set out traps a few months ago, and that seemed to work for a while. Plus I got to see your stupid little sugar ant carcasses in the trap. Which was awesome. But alas, that did not solve the problem because like the June bugs, y'all just kept coming. So I bought new traps, this time with bait that you can take back to your queen. God save the queen? I think not. Not when that queen is a whore ant queen that keeps pumping out minions to taint my food. Fuck the queen, I say.

Yeah, I said it. You're no Queen Elizabeth, you twat.

So far, I've just seen you guys came out at the bait stations though, and this angers me. You had one job, assholes! ONE JOB. Get it and go. This is not the water cooler at the office, you useless pieces of shit. You don't get to sit there and chat about whatever it is sugar ants talk about. Sugar and ruining my life, I'm guessing. GO HOME. TAKE IT TO YOUR LEADER. You know, that thing right above this paragraph? HER. Take it to her. Or have you been here so long that you've forgotten all about your cozy little mound of bullshit? 

Except with tiny, tiny sugar-shitting ants.

I will end you, this I promise you. Whether it's with bait, spray, crushing your tiny little bodies one by one, or flamethrower, it will happen. One way or another, we will be done with you.

I Must Have Been a Kid with a Magnifying Glass in a Past Life

Dear Ants,

What the fuck? I'm serious. What. The. Fuck. Were. You. Guys. Thinking. I'm so beyond done with all of you that I'm seriously thinking about investing in a goddamn flamethrower for the next time I run into any of you. I know other people might think that a flamethrower is a bit of an overkill for ants and should only be used on nopes like giant fucking spiders or "holy-shit-that's-a-huge-fucking-tree-roach-and-it-just-flew-at-my-face" roaches. And normally they would be right. But after last week, I am so goddamn done with you guys.

"What did you do? WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

Listen up, you sassy motherfucker, I'll tell you what you did. You thought it would be really fucking funny to get a bunch of your friends together and crawl into my hamper. My CLOTHES hamper. Not my food hamper. And most certainly not my ANT hamper. I don't even think an ant hamper is a thing, but if it was, I would set it on fire. Twice. Fuck you guys. I had thrown a clean pair of shorts and shirt in there because I was lazy and didn't feel like putting them away. I was going to wear them shortly anyway. Excuse the shit out of me. Imagine my fucking surprise when after a couple of minutes of wearing it, you decided to bite my armpit. MY. ARMPIT. What the fuck is wrong with you?! Who does that? That was rhetorical, you little cockgobbler. Obviously you do. I know- I was there. And I'm sure you guys were laughing it up the whole time because as of then, I hadn't figured out that you guys were in my hamper. I had an issue with your brethren previously trying to claim our bathroom for their own which because they didn't have a flag didn't work out for them. I thought maybe I had accidentally left enough survivors that they were able to regroup and try again, and maybe that's how I ended up with you bastards in my clothes. I checked for more of you douchecanoes, but didn't see anything. I thought that was weird, but chalked it up to being an isolated incident. I came home from work the next day just to check to see if you guys were confused about whether or not it was cool to take up residence in our bathroom. Nothing. Okay. Cool.

"Waaaait a minute...check the hamper," said my brain.
"Whhaaaaa? No way...there's no way that's where they're coming from."
"Just do it," my brain insisted. So I did.

Sigh.

Really? There you guys were- running about my clothes hamper as if it were your personal fucking playground full of delicious treats. Well, guess who was fucking wrong? That's right- another rhetorical question. You know what's in a clothes hamper? I'll give you three guesses and the first two don't count. That's right! FUCKING CLOTHES! Not food. There was no food in my hamper. Trust me, if there was food to be had, I would have Hoovered it up way before you bastards ever got to it. There was no candy. There were no Nacho Cheese Doritos. Just clothes. You guys don't eat clothes. Nor are you big enough to wear my clothes. So stay the fuck out of my hamper. What did being in my hamper get you? For some of you, your meaningless little life was snuffed out by my foot. For others, I drowned you and then burned you in the washer and dryer. For those that escaped the previous two fates, resistance was futile. All that surviving got you was a healthy dose of poison. I sprayed the shit out of you guys and enjoyed every second of it. I will do it again if I have to.


So in summary:

This will be us the next time I find you in my hamper or anywhere else you don't goddamn belong.

And

I will end you,

Me

p.s. ARE YOU FUCKING SORRY?!

How to Not Be an Annoying Human Being: Friend Edition

This post is going to be less humorous and more rant-y than normal. Now, I know what you’re thinking; you’re thinking, “But you’re always rant-y!” to which I say, “Shut up. You’re wrong, and I hate you.” But that wouldn’t be true. To be honest, you’re not wrong, and I don’t hate you. I love you. Please don’t go. I didn’t mean it.

Anyway, like I was saying, this post is going to be pretty rant-y. I’ve been dealing with some pretty shitty behavior on the friend front lately, and it’s left me feeling, how do you say….stabby? I’ve compiled a list of annoying (also can be called twat-waffle-y) behavior that I have personally encountered from these “friends”. If you do these things, stop. If you don’t, you will die alone, and we’re all going to laugh at you. If you have experienced these things from your own personal douche-monger of a friend, then know that you’re not alone in this fight to not fly off of the deep end and end up in prison.

Don’t talk shit about your friends behind their backs.

• Seriously. Just don’t. I know they might have pissed you off because they decided to skip out on the alcohol poisoning for the night, but still don’t do it. I know you might not like their significant other, and you want to start spewing all kinds of hate from your pie-hole like Linda Blair did with split-pea soup. Still don’t do it. Here’s a good rule of thumb: If finding out someone was talking shit about you would send you flying full throttle into Hulk Smash mode, then pipe the fuck down. Especially if that someone else is your friend. Seriously? Why are you even friends with this person? All you seem to be capable of is talking as much shit as is humanly possible. Do you even like your friend? Or do you keep them around in order to feel better about your own life? You do realize this isn't high school, right?

Don’t get pissed when a friend finds out you were talking shit about them and then starts bitching about you.

• There really isn’t much more to this one. It’s pretty self-explanatory, and it also leads me to my third point.

Don’t be a hypocrite.

• To me, this is possibly one of the most infuriating ones on the list. And that’s saying something because everything on this list all but sends me into a blind rage when I think about it too much. Anyway, like I was saying, don’t be a hypocrite. How are you going to get pissed at someone for doing exactly what you did not that long ago? It’s not like you can say, “Oh, I was a younger person then. I didn’t know what I was doing. I’ve changed a lot since then.” Bitch, you’ve been talking shit for the past year. Consistently. Don’t lie to me. Don’t insult my intelligence. Sure, some people could say that the friend could have confronted the shitty friend and demanded to know why they were talking shit. And they would be right; that would be the adult thing to do. BUT here’s the plot twist. The shitty friend will lie to you. And tell you that they never said that. That it was someone else just trying to stir up shit and cause drama. They would never talk shit about you. You’re besties and are so NOT about drama. Which, again, leads me to my next point.

Stop being such a fucking drama queen.

• No one cares. I’m serious. No one. All of your Facebook posts are just cries for attention. And you might be confused. You might think that by “drama queen” I mean that you’re negative or always bitching about things. You do that too, but when I say you’re a drama queen, I mean you look like you can’t stop posting on Facebook for fear that everyone might have forgotten about you in the 2 minutes since you last posted.  Even the posts “I love my life!” or “Everything’s great!  #YOLO” reek of desperation and neediness. Oh, and stop talking about how tired you are or how you have SO much to do. You only do that so that people will tell you how great you are and how hard you work. Seriously. Shut the fuck up. The ones who know you the best see all of this for what it is. And we don’t care.

You are not my only friend, and even if you were, sometimes I don’t want to do anything.

• I know you make jokes about how I don’t have any other friends. Or I thought they were jokes. Now I’m not so sure. I really think you think that you’re my only friend. Guess what, asshat? You’re not. So please, please do us both a solid and stop giving me shit every time we talk or see each other about how you never see me anymore because I’m too busy hanging out with my other friends. Which is it? I can’t both have friends and not have friends. I’m not some socially retarded version of Schrödinger’s cat. In this situation you can’t have it both ways. I’m not both socially dead and alive. I’m not being a dick…well, not on purpose…okay, maybe a little bit. Really I’m just trying to figure out what the fuck you’re talking about. I’m going to lay this out as simply as I can, I am an adult, and as such, I am busy a lot of the time with work or hanging out other friends (you included). And when I’m not busy, sometimes I just want to curl up on the couch, stuff my face, and watch a Parks & Recreation marathon on Netflix. I know that to you this sounds about as fun as having bamboo shoved under your freshly manicure nails. I get that. I’m not shoving it down your fucking throat. You asked me what I’m doing; I told you. End of fucking story. You like to go out to party and dance. That’s fine. That’s not really my cup of tea. I’m sorry. I know….I’m crazy. I mean, how can anyone not love the shit out of being dry humped, spilled on, and groped by some random sweaty stranger? Don’t get me wrong; I’m not judging. I would have to care to judge. And I promise you, I don’t. Therefore since I don’t care, I’m not judging. It may seem as if I’m being redundant, but I want to make sure you fully understand.  A=B=C=A. Got it? Awesome. So to sum this point up, stop treating me like I kicked your puppy just because I don’t want to hang out with you. Every. Fucking. Weekend.  Speaking of judging….

Stop being so goddamn judge-y and I will start getting stabby. I mean, Or. Stop being so goddamn judge-y OR I will start getting stabby.

•  Who the fuck died and made you the Almighty authority on every-fucking- thing? I hate to be the one who has to break this to you, but you, m’dear, are not fucking perfect. Over the course of our friendship, I could have pointed out so many things you did wrong and so many ways that you royally fucked up, but I didn’t. You know why? Because I was your friend. I accepted you for your faults and all. I knew I wasn’t perfect, and I’m still far from it, so who was I to judge? What’s that quote? Oh, right…“He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her”.  Here’s another good one: “For with what judgment ye judge, ye shall be judged: and with what measure ye mete, it shall be measured to you again”. Basically, don’t be a judge-y asshole, ya dick. Especially to the people you call friends. Don’t go behind my back and talk about how you won’t deal with me drunk, especially after I’ve picked you up from the bar because you were too fucking wasted to drive. And after I’ve sat up all night after you cried because you thought you were going to die from alcohol poisoning and made sure you didn’t choke on your own vomit. And after I’ve held your hair back and tried to help you when you were, yet again, fucking wasted. And please for the love of God, stop talking about how all I do is go party when I go out of town. I’m saying this for your benefit because, honestly honey, you’re embarrassing yourself, and it’s getting painful to watch.

I hope this post finds you well. Also give me my shit back.

• If I let you borrow something very expensive and something I plan to use again (which is why I lent it to you and didn’t just give it to you), I expect it back at some point. I even told you when I lent it to you that I might on occasion need to borrow it back to do what I needed to do. This worked for a while, and I understood that it might be a minute before I got it back for good. I was okay with that. No problem. I never once badgered you. I always asked to use it at your convenience. I think that had been working out well for us, don’t you think? I do, however, have a problem with you not responding when I ask to borrow it again. I wasn’t asking for it back; I was asking to borrow it. I also have a problem when you don’t respond to any messages I’ve sent you just trying to get into contact with you. Before I didn’t have a problem with you borrowing my stuff, but when all I hear from your end is goddamn radio silence, I, crazily enough, develop a slight fucking problem with that. Who knew, right? Did you forget YOU were borrowing MY stuff, you dickmonger? It’s been over a year since I let you borrow it. If you managed to break everything that I let you borrow or it was stolen or you lost it, you could have told me. Or is it something else? Are you mad at me? Oh wait, that’s right; at this point I don’t give a good goddamn if you’re mad at me. You, my sweet little angel face, can eat a dick. Right after you give me my stuff back. 

Don’t treat your friends like they’re your servants.

• I’m not saying don’t ask your friends for help. I’m saying don’t tell your friends to do things for you because you’re either a) too lazy…sorry, tired or b) getting ready to go out. And I’m not talking about stuff like grabbing your phone from the kitchen or even letting your dog out in the backyard to go to the bathroom. I’m talking about the stuff that people have to go out of their way to do. It’s your fucking responsibility; you do it.

Don’t make jokes about a friend getting pregnant.

• This point isn’t about making fat jokes. No, this point is about how shitty it is to laugh and make jokes about your friend getting pregnant. How is that funny? Your friend can barely afford/is able to take care of herself. Why in the hell would you think it’s okay to wish a baby on her right now. She’s not married. I know, I know….you don’t have to be married to have a kid. I’m not judging people who do. That’s fine if you have a kid and aren’t married as long as you’re able to take care of them. I am not. I want to have children, but right now isn’t the best time. It’s not funny, and you consistently putting it out into the universe is kind of freaking me out. So let’s not, shall we?

Don’t categorize your friends.

• Again to explain this point before I go any further lest I offend more people than I already have, this isn’t about calling some friends your “work friends” or your “school friends” or your “kicking-children-and-sacrificing-small-animals-at-midnight friends” (to each their own. Again, I’m not judging).  This is about categorizing the friends within your group. You don’t see them as much, so they become your “only-when-they-need-something friends” or your “only-when-YOU-need-something friends” or your "I/They-have-nothing-better-going-on friends".  I honestly didn’t even realize this was a thing. For me, my friends are my friends. I don’t need to label them because as far as I’m concerned if you need to label your friends, they’re probably not your friends. Do you realize how insulted your friend is going to be when they find out that you call them your “I-only-keep-them-around-to-feel-better-about-myself friend”? You’ve just gone from having a “friend” to whom you could feel superior (just to clarify- not a friend) to having one less friend. Slow fucking clap, you douchemonger. Well done! You are on the correct and extremely efficient path to being forever alone. I hope that’s what you wanted. It seems to me like it is due to the way you talk about and treat people. The sad, but also funny part of it is that when you end up with no one around you, you’re going to blame everyone else. You’ll never stop to think that maybe you were the common factor.

To sum this whole list up.

Apologies for how long and rant-y this post was. Thank you for indulging me while I got all of that out of my system. Lord knows prison jumpsuits don’t look good on anyone, much less if you’re 5’2”. What about you guys? What’s some shitty friend behavior you’ve experienced?

How to Not Be an Annoying Human Being: Office Edition

The following is a list that I've compiled that I hope is helpful for some of the boundary-retarded individuals out there in the workforce. If you are a victim of one of these infuriating individuals, read on. I hope that it might make you feel better to know you're not the only one who has to put up with this nonsense.

• Stop trying to do other people’s jobs. Seriously. They didn’t ask you the question. They asked me. Mind your own fucking business. I know you think you’re being helpful, but you’re not. You’re being annoying. If I don’t know the answer, and I then turn to you and say, “Hey there, my good sir (or lady), with your extensive wealth of knowledge, do you perchance know the answer to this thus far unanswerable question?” then, and only then, may you interrupt me to answer the question that they asked me. Otherwise, sit the fuck down. No one asked you.
• Stop standing in the office behind me, braying like a goddamn donkey. I cannot emphasize this one enough. Shut. The. Fuck. Up.

• If you see that I’m on the phone, go away. I’m not going to get off the phone in the next 5-10 seconds. I saw you. I know that you wanted to speak with me. Got it. I don’t need you standing there, with your watery, bloodshot eyes boring holes into the side of my head while I try to focus on what the person on the phone is saying, you mouth-breather. So wipe that idiotic expectant grin off of your face and go sit down; I’ll be with you in a minute. Actually, you know what? Don’t. The longer you stand there, the longer I’m going to stay on the phone. I don’t care that the other person hung up 5 minutes ago; I’m going to sit here and pretend to have a conversation until you decide to knuckle-drag yourself back to your desk.
• If you ask me to help you with something do not- I repeat- DO NOT ask me every 5-10 minutes how it’s looking and am I done yet. If you do this, your task will get bumped to the bottom of the list. Weird how that happens.
• Do NOT ask me to do the shit that you are too lazy to do or just don’t want to do. And don’t fucking act like it’s my job to do your busy work for you. I have a pile of my own stuff that I haven’t gotten to yet because I’m….busy. Now if you’ll excuse me (because I’m not your fucking secretary, Mr. Draper), I’ve got to get back to Farmville. These crops aren’t going to harvest themselves. I trust that you can find the break room and pour your own coffee like a big boy, yes?
• Stop bitching about the software we use. You know what bitching about it does? You got it! Abso-fucking-lutely nothing. So stop it. I don’t want to smack you in the mouth, but….actually who am I kidding? Yes I do. Let’s amend that, shall we? For the sake of keeping my job, I don’t want to smack you in the mouth, so please do me a solid, and shut the fuck up. I get it….The system sucks; it’s not efficient; it’s confusing; you broke it…again. Did I address all the issues? Yes? Mind if I say a few things? Good. No, it doesn’t; yes, it is, no, it’s not; no, you didn’t. You think all of this because you don’t know what you’re doing. Because you don’t fucking god-damn pay attention when I’m teaching you how to use the software. Don’t worry; we’ll revisit this one. 
 

• Stop acting like it’s the end of the world if the system gives you an error. Stop hyperventilating. Or don’t. Maybe you’ll pass out. Stop threatening to chunk your mouse or phone across the room, you psycho. 9 times out of 10 the page just needs to be refreshed, so hit F5 and pipe the fuck down, Chicken Little.
• Stop going behind coworkers’ backs to tattle on them to their bosses. This is not elementary school, so really this rule should be a given. You are a grown-ass person, and you’re worried about what another grown-ass person is doing, and for what? Just so you can look like the fucking model employee? Well, me tell you something, Miss Gabby Girl Scout, you don’t look like the model employee. You look like an immature asshole because their boss doesn’t care about what you just told them. What you tattled on that person for was petty and stupid, and now that coworker’s boss thinks you’re a sniveling asshole. And guess what? Their boss told them, so now your coworker thinks that too. Well done.
• Now we’re going to revisit number 6. When you ask me how to do something, pay attention. I get it; when you don’t do something consistently, you forget exactly how to do it. That’s okay. I don’t mind helping in those situations. There are a lot of steps, some of which re confusing when you’re unfamiliar with the process. It’s when you blatantly don’t pay attention when I’m teaching you how to do something because, in your words, I’ll be there to do it for you every time you do this. Is that so? I don’t fucking think so, you douchecanoe. I will help you, yes, but gone are the days that I hold your hand and walk you through your incompetency. And when you ask me how much I think you’ll remember of what I’m teaching you, and I say, “Nothing”, I’m not joking. I’m actually very annoyed, so don’t respond with “Exactly”. You do remember that YOU asked ME to help you and teach you how to do this, don’t you? *I* know how to do this. You do not. So pipe the fuck down and pay attention.
• Finally, just because I’m not smiling, doesn’t mean I’m not happy. So stop telling me to smile more, to not look so pissed, to keep my chin up, and that things will get better.  I wasn’t pissed. I was actually in a great mood; I was just concentrating on my work. As the old adage goes: that’s just how my face looks.

I also bear a striking resemblance to Nick Offerman apparently. I'm okay with that.