I don’t know what the hell’s the matter but i wish you would tell me, and for god’s sake what the fuck happened to you that one weekend in October?! You called to make plans, then rescheduled and that same day i couldn’t get in touch with you to save my life.
Two months later – you couldn’t even be bothered to call back with so much as a lame excuse or a go fuck yourself. So i don’t know what the fuck is going on with you and you don’t seem to give a shit.
Pretty much everyone who is driving on the interstate highway at noon, which is when this happened.
Why is it all about you, all the time? Your money/relative/job/romantic/car/emotional problems are all you ever want to talk about. I know, I know they are overwhelming. But when we talk, I hear a monologue. There’s no dialogue. I’m better off than you in many ways, but I have similar problems. Everything I say to you is like talking to the wall, you don’t listen, you’re thinking only of yourself. All the time. And you wonder why I don’t call you up any more.
I work at a school with a student population that is mostly Jewish. When kids or their parents wished me a Happy Hanukkah, I just said thanks and wished them a Merry Christmas. It’s usually good for a chuckle.
you lied and got me fired for something everyone,even the boss, knows i would never do. Now i cant find a job because of it. thanks, your a class act.
I’m fed up with your whining, your childishness, your pettiness, your pathological miserliness, all of your neuroses, your refusal to do anything to change your landfill of a hoarder’s house or the rest of your pitiful life. I have lost all respect for you.
You are 19 years old, no job, no money except what your parents spend on you, you start classes and don’t finish them, you want to marry your 19 year old BF whom you’ve met only once in person because he lives about 2k miles away, and you claim you’re going to cooking school, but we all know you hardly cook at all, you don’t like hard work or criticism or pressure or adversity, so that won’t last either. (There is already a thread about you, O Severely Enabled One.)
Higher ed system, you are deteriorating rapidly. Most of the “students” don’t want to work or be challenged but by God they want that degree, they think they’re customers, and they want to negotiate everything. The admins are trying to keep the whole mess together with frayed rope and worry beads. I am trying to transition into another line of work since I have no desire to continue rearranging deck chairs on the Titanic.
I’ll miss you, but man I wish you had tried a bit harder. You didn’t do your job, and then you complained that you were bored. If you had actually tried to engage- just a little bit- maybe you could have done something other than waste everyone’s time. You let a lot of people down, you know.
STFU. Just because we are both girls does not mean I need to hear about your period, your leg-shaving, the state of your vaginal secretions, that hot guy you saw once, shoe sales or any of the other worthless comments you just can’t stop yourself from saying. I really don’t want to feel like I’m living in a Cathy comic strip. Have you noticed that I shrink away whenever you try to hug me? Have you noticed that we aren’t even friends? Keep your confidences to yourself.
I’m still not over you.
Hmm. Sounds therapeutic. I’m in.
No. Signing a lease after only a half-day’s worth of looking is stupid, and I’m not doing it. I don’t care how much of a huge flaming hurry you think you’re in; I’m doing this as a favor to you, and I’ll do it when I’m comfortable with it or not at all.
For the ten thousandth time in as many conversations: I KNOW YOU HATE HIM. I don’t, and I don’t want to hear it. I’ve had no interest in hearing about it for the past twenty-five years of my life, and Lord only knows why you think I’d start now, but hey…you just keep on derailing all our conversations into discussions about how much you hate him, and I’ll keep on hanging up as soon as you do. Why mess with a good thing, right?
[Apologies, this is long, but I have to get it out somewhere, and this seems to be the right place.]
Sigh…look, man. I know you want everyone in your personal social circle to get along and love one another and hang out as one big happy family. I know you dream of the day that I welcome your numerous acquaintances with open arms, and help you usher in a new day of kindness and brotherhood. It’s a beautiful thought, and I’d love to help you, I really would, but…listen. I’m going to be straight with you.
The reason I do not want to hang out with your friends is that all of your friends are retarded douchebags. Yes, all of them. Sure, there are a few that I pretend to get along with because they generally manage not to say anything insulting, bigoted, or outright hateful in my presence — resorting instead to getting wasted and proclaiming their own superiority at every opportunity — but rest assured, I gain no enjoyment from it. What’s more, you know this; we’ve had this conversation so many times that I think you might have even been sober for it once or twice. So, while I acknowledge that you are indeed a very kind person for continuing to extend your hospitality to these folks, I’d occasionally like to spend time with you without the added company of endless droves of your perpetually crunked racist and/or homophobic and/or otherwise-superiority-complex-sporting mouth-breathing fucking retarded douchebag ‘friends’ popping in and out of the latest get-together that you’d promised would be “just us”, and I don’t think that makes me an asshole.
(Oh, and one more thing: before preaching love and acceptance to me, I’d work on the guy who introduced himself to your coworker’s girlfriend with “Boy gets himself promoted an’ now he’s fuckin’ the nigger?!”. Or possibly the lovely lass who overturned my coffee table when I requested she cease slapping your girlfriend upside the head. I know you were conflicted on both of these occasions when we had to throw these people out, but that’s what happens when you only hang around with retarded douchebags. Take a lesson, please.)
I’d like to move on to the feats of strength.
Married, huh?
I went to the volunteer organzation you head, and dedicated hours of my time & professional services to it while also looking desparately for a job. You had me and my wife over at your house, I invited you and your wife out to dinner in turn. After a year or more of this, I finally get a lead on a job that might be suitable for me, and which you would probably have some info on. I call you up about it, ask you to help me put in a good word. You said you weren’t aware of the opening before, but sorry, you can’t do anything to help me out, because it sounds like it might be a plum job one of your friends might be interested in.
I’m going to call you out of the blue one of these days and tell you to go fuck yourself, and the fucked up wacky cult you belong to for good measure.
You pushed me right out of the car you were trying to sell me. I told you I had a good bit of cash to put down, but instead of sitting down and talking to me to find out the details, you ran my credit through 10 different lenders, finally matched me up with a finance company that charges more interest than a loan shark, and had the nerve to be disappointed when I wouldn’t bite. Now I’ve got 10 hard pulls on my credit, which isn’t very high to begin with. (I’ve got a lot of “paid in full” stuff and student loans, but no credit cards or mortgage.) Thanks for nothing, you greedy fuck. The punch line is that, had you been willing to work with me a little, I would have written a check and walked out with clear title. But no. You had to be greedy. Sucks to be you.
The nice family-owned lot a few blocks from me is going to have a nice New Year’s Eve when I buy a car from them today. In cash.
Good for you!
If you possibly can, make sure to swing by Asshole’s place, too. Ask to speak to the sales manager, show him/her your new shiny, and say that the sale could have been theirs…if only Asshole hadn’t tried to screw you, and did manage to ding your credit.
Or has a kid?
Asshole’s place is a good distance away, so it’s not worth doing. But I bet that I’ll get a call sometime next week from the yahoo or his boss, at which point I’ll tell him about my new shiny. (It’s not new new, but it’s new to me.)