Saturday, February 05, 2005

Vitriol

I have very specific notions about who I am and when they are proven false, or even weak, I feel like someone has taken my physical body away from me. Its pretty fucking disconcerting. You start to understand how people grossly maladapt to live with extraordinary cognitive dissonance.

(i'm in a mood)

And another thing, I am just gonna say it cause I am tired of living with this secret...I DON'T LIKE ELVIS COSTELLO. OKAY!?! I think he SUX. I don't fucking like his music, his voice annoys me, his lyrics are uninteresting, he whines and those glasses aren't actually cool GDAMNIT. FASHION WENT OUT OF FASHION MAN.


awkward geeky hipsterguy

And another thing, how dare those friends of mine who stopped calling me all together tell me that I don't have time for them cause I spend all my time with the BF when they never gave me a chance to not call them in the first place, then act like I blew them off.

And to that stoopid bitchface with the badhair, YES WE ARE TRYING TO TELL YOU ITS TIME TO LEAVE WHEN WE COME AND ASK YOU IF WE CAN TAKE YOUR PLATES FOR THE TENTH TIME. The restaurant closed twenty minutes ago and even though you sit there with your fatfacefriend and talk about how waiters don't have any business acting snotty in Portland, Portland, Haha... private conversation for the benefit of those around you, and you tried to make it sound like you wuz talking about a different restaurant and we all know yer just trying to get snootified on us... but get this! Maybe you should shut up, maybe were tired, maybe we want to go home, maybe we are taking almost a double load of credits and barely getting by, and even though its Friday night we gotta go home and study more... do you think you could be generous enough to consider that four servers with hang-dog faces aren't making it their first priority to impress you into discomfort with their snootiness after closing time.

So take your selfindulgent self and the suckingalltheairoutoftheroom ego, and that little world that revolves around you, and yes, take that magnanimous afterhours tip too, shove them all into your unstylish purse along with your passiveaggressive conversation style, including the darting your eyes over at me to see if I am listening as you really hit your stride technique and get the fuck out so we can go home. Thank you. Thank you very very much.

And, um, for anyone shocked by my outburst.... well, um


feel the love

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