Hello. I know I’m new, but my rage is great.
Once upon a time, I had a best friend. Her name was Baz. We were close as sisters. We’d known each other since we were four. Blah, blah, blah, closenesscakes.
Then, Baz got a girlfriend. Dun dun dun. We’ll call the girlfriend ‘Amy’, 'cause, well, that’s her name. Baz and I began to slip apart, since she was spending all her time with Amy.
Today, Baz called me, suggested we do something together, “just the two of us. I know we haven’t hung out a lot lately.”
Gee, willikers, Baz, sounds great. What do you want to do?
“How about the movies? Didn’t you say you want to see The Hulk ?”
So, I show up to the fast-food restaurant we’re supposed to meet at. Amy. Is. There. “Can Amy come? I told her it’d be okay with you. Hey, you can invite B, so you don’t get bored.”
(Okay, Vampy, deep breathing.)
Bitch, let me get this straight. You invite me to go do something as friends. Then, you bring your fucking girlfriend, and not only do you bring her, you throw it on me to be either a fucking heinous bitch or cave. Oh, and you’re her ride, so I really can’t say no.
YOU suggest we do something as friends, try to mend the rift. Then YOU show up at the rendezvous with the reason for said rift (note: I actually like Amy, really, I do). And then YOU suggest I find someone else to come along and keep me entertained throughout the movie (Because apparently, I can’t be entertained by a movie alone. What do you think I am, a five-year-old?), tacitly acknowledging that you plan to ignore me through the entire movie.
I feel fairly safe here in saying, “WHAT? THE? FUCK?”
I quelled my rage. I am above my rage. The rage is not my master. I even managed to get through the movie (and the macking going on next to me), and nobly resisted my urge to interrupt Baz’s important makeout session to get her to yell, “Hulk SMASH!!” with me. Because I had no accomplice, I remained silent.
Then, as we were leaving the theater, you grab my arm. “Hey, can I spend the night tonight? We can watch your Buffy season 4 DVDs.”
Oh, dear. See, I know you. I know what lurks behind that sunny smile. I know exactly what you’re going to do. See, Baz, you’ll get here, and then you’ll ‘borrow my computer for just a second’ because you’ve been grounded for yours for two years for looking at porn (and then looking at porn again the minute you got ungrounded). Then you’ll surf the 'Net until I fall asleep. Then you’ll gleefully watch the DVDs yourself until dawn.
And see, really this is my fault, because I made the mistake of letting you know I had the DVDs in the first place. 'Cause you’re too cheap to buy them yourself, and you’re so horrible with stuff I loan you (bitch, you destroyed Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, and I still haven’t gotten my 8 Mile DVD back from your ass) that I can’t trust you.
So, you see, I know you. I know what you’re going to do. I know how you operate. I should know better.
But, y’all know what? I’m weak.
She’ll be here in about ten minutes.