well, for the past 4 days i have had to fight the urge to drunkenly post somewhere on average of 50 times. not that i was drunk 50 times, but the times i was drunk the impulse was so strong i had to keep warding it off. damn impulses. however, i would like to write an open letter to a special someone:
Dear That Guy at the Bar,
I know, now, that we went to high school together. I think now, your name may actually be John. I will not remember your name, or your claims of being at my house at a party that I never wanted cuz I was actually planning on watching my girlfriend and Rev's girlfriend share a lesbian experience and then dive in and have a flesh pile. But your friends all decided to show up. I knew them. I do not know you. They ruined my night. Therefore you ruined my night. I had to deal with a pissed off girl who didn't get to munch box and a pissed off couple who didn't get the flesh pile they wanted. So... I got drunk. Maybe I even called you by name. If I did, rest assured I had to ask someone. Now, it's cool, that you recognize me. However, you don't have to come talk to me. Truth be told, you're kind of a dolt. More than kinda. You know, it's one thing to brag about controlling your parents in high school, WHEN YOU'RE IN HIGH SCHOOL! But bragging about it when you're 26/27 in a bar and a career waiter who failed out of community college... not exactly something to be proud of. Have you ever noticed, when I am sat at your tables in any of the restaurants in which you have worked that I don't even acknowledge you? It's because I don't care enough about you to remember you name. And in those instances, you're even wearing a name tag. You sit and talk and make vague references to things that are on public record of what I had done in high school. Never any detail though. I'm beginning to think you're a hoax. A strange little waiter hoax. Please. Stop talking to me. I don't know you. I don't think I'd like you if I did, and for christ's sake when someone makes fun of you, to your face after everything you say, IT'S YOUR CUE TO LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE SO I CAN LEER AT HOT BITCHES AND FART AND BLAME IT ON SOME FRAT BOY!
Sincerely,
The Chudder.
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god i hate people sometimes. anyhow, that's my weekend. so now i leave you with me exposing my inner dork:
a 6 1/2 minute video clip. but absolutely the best video clip you will ever see! Two guys, head to head, Super Mario Brothers, start to finish, with a photo finish. i watched most of this with my mouth agape just in awe of their sweet mario skills. they are the very definition of l337!
It's british, yes, But it's still a live action simpsons opening.pretty fuckin rad at that.
Smoking gun has found a great court case. read the breif. then read the footnote on page two. priceless. i would be that judge.
The A-team Theme... Re-Cast with the Chucker and Jack Bauer as the A-Team! w00t!
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11 comments:
Eh. I dunno, maybe I am a bit more forgiving and gregarious. At least I would be angry at the guy for breaking up a flesh pile.
However, apathy works. Or maybe it doesn't; I don't care.
that's it exactly auburn. i mean, i'm not trying to be arrogant, though, in reality, i am. but that's beside the point. the worst part is, i see him everywhere. and the other shitty part is, i think he thinks i'm some amalgamation of some other people too. he was talking to me about the buick open and seeing me there... which, i never attended. odd.
it's not forgiving scoot. it's just, even had i not gone to school with him, if he was just some asshat in a bar, i would find him droll at best, and would not befriend him. grrr
I think you should send him that letter. :P
Wow. I feel dirty. (Stuck on the fleshpile.) I'm so glad I don't live anywhere near where I grew up.
you have no idea how much I am looking forward to writing while I'm drunk. It'll be an entirely new genre!
Nothing wrong with being a grudge holder, especially given the circumstances...
So how many different names did you purposely call him by?
steph, if i knew where he lived, i prolly would.
kristin, i was sooo happy when i wasn't living around here. coming back was a bit depressing. yeah, i prolly could have left the flesh pile out... but then the story isn;t quite as good.
rolli, actually, i have a game i play. it's called, "how long can i talk to a person without ever saying their name." mostly i play the game cuz i'm horrible with names, but with some people i just try to see how long i can go. there are people on the fringe of the groups i hung out with in high school that to this day, i don't really know their names. it's dedication to the sport. you should try it.
that must result in one hell of an ability to keep score, that could take ages!
But sport is sport, do what we must.
And by the by, I added you as a flickr contact. Lest you get scared and think I'm just some creepy person. I mean, I AM, but I'm a creepy person you're familiar with, so it's OK.
la la, you're more than welcome to print that letter out and hand it to whomever.
rolli, it is a complex scoring system, kind of a cross between baseball scoring and curling... but once you learn it, it's pretty easy.
stepho, seriously. i will gladly punch you in the mouth if need be. and thanks for adding me as a contact. wahoo! what does that mean exactly. since i just signed up with flickr? i have not really used it yet and have no clue what being someone's friend entails on there.
It means if you go to the link that says "my contacts" you can see pictures your contacts have posted. Also, if you've added that person as a "friend" you can see their special "friends only" pictures. Naturally, I use it to view a lot of porn.
I see you've come around to my way of thinking, per our conversation at the bar
"Yes, HE was part of a group that ruined the night. The group isn't here....he is. Every member can be blamed separately, unless they're all together again.....HE ruined our night."
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