Sometimes while strolling on the beach on a bright sunny winters day in Malibu with a pal, you find out that they think you’re a pathetic issues riddled dink, and also that they don’t care about these problems enough to explain them to you beyond a one sentence label.
Huh? sounds like there’s a story behind that. WELL, since you asked:
BuddyMcpal Lauren and I were fitzin around Malibu (I was gonna say “f*ckin around” but she’s got a new bf I approve of and I don’t wanna make him feel threatened by my awesomeness any more than is inevitable by using slang that could have shlexual connotations) and shortly after poking dead bird carcasses with sticks on the beach, we start walking back to the car across the street. After I complained about the wasted marsh land we were walking over that could be easily turned into beautiful usable area for both wildlife and humans with just a million or two worth of pumps and properly placed cement, she made a provocative comment on my psyche. Unpromted (or maybe segwaying from the marshland thing? who knows) she tells me that I remind her of one of the guys in I hope they serve beer in Hell, who hates all women now because one burned him back in the day so now he’s afraid of relationships…
Well, I’ve been burned by a whole buncha dirty soulless whores (not just one) and I am unaware of any lasting relationship scarring. So when I ask for further insight behind this diagnosis, she instead branches off into a flurry of other problems I allegedly suffer from, including that I’m not happy because I lack “companionship”, which every human wants. Dang Gina….
My favorite was her opinion that I sabotage relationships cuz I’m “afraid of being happy”. Really? which is more condescending? Me thinking in my head that “oh, thats adorable that you saw Dr Phil tell someone that and you’re eager to apply it to someone in real life”? or her saying out loud “ya, you force yourself to be unhappy cuz you’re a weak and fragile little bitch”?
Like any comedian, of course I have a miserable-existence-hate everything side to balance out the clown you all like to laugh at (duh. that’s what makes us funny), but tying anything to some kind of book club theory on commitment issues? Really y’all?
I wish I had more material to continue a “can you believe this ju guyz??” shtick, but unfortunately no further details could be pryed out of the Compass safe because she refused to elaborate on any of these deep physiological profiles saying that she “doesn’t care” about it enough to actually talk about it when I asked what was up with that.
UPDATE: Everything you know is wrong. My life is a cruel ocean of lies whose tide is always ri— ok, no, but really: like my life, this blog has become inaccurate and irrelevant, cuz I just spent about 3 1/2 months on the phone with Lauren hashing this thing out to Hades cuz she was all like “wtf?” and I was all like “wtf ur face?” and she was like “you wanna fight about it?” and i was like “not really, but bring it” and she was like “its been BROUGHT on your gay ass blog, n*gger” and I was like — wait no, it wasn’t like that. She was just annoyed that I was teasing her for teasing me because she didn’t think her accusations or unwilliness to elaborate on them were mean enough to be mocked, and I’m cool with that, cuz I believe her that she wasn’t trying to be a snot in the first place.
See, I wrote this post as “hey internetz, en it silliez how this dern dopey female thinks I’m all skrewed ups? lulz reight??” and she read it as “hey everyone. I hate Lauren…. f*cking… hate her….. *scratches nose*….. myea” – which normally, I’d be all “chill the eff out slayer”, cuz I took your thumbs-down commentary about me and grinded them into a delightful but casual happy meal burger for the mind that everyone now can enjoy, so whats the beef bitch? Except, those types of blogs are only fun when the person was actually intending to be a bitch or at least being a careless dope. but good news is that she was actually offended by that suggestion, so that’s cool that she cares, and also less cool that I teased back. As Johnny Cochran said: “If there ain’t intent. you caint dissent”. or something. So my “hey, guess what, I get to have fun at your expense on the internetz” rule only applies when the target files under the triple A’s of obnoxiousness: aware, affirmed and apathetic. Turns out her beachside slight was more of a casual “who the eff knows whats wrong with you…maybe this?” and not so much the “you’re these crappy things. you know it. so shut up cuz I aint takin questions, you woman hating pigdog”.
I hate to sully a good bashblog with late breaking factual updates, but accuracy turns me on.
I regret the error.
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