Can We Reschedule for Never?

                It’s not often I wake up at 6:30 on my vacation, but my mind was racing with so much “what the fuck?” that I just had to spill it. I feel like this would be so much cooler to write if I was sitting in my kitchen drinking coffee and just have my roommates look at me with extreme confusion on why I am up, but I don’t like coffee so I’m just going to axe those plans all together. I suppose, I could sit there with some strawberry milk, but I feel like that just way too hipster… Do hipsters even drink strawberry milk? Ain’t nobody got time for that.

                Speaking of time, I hate making plans with people. It’ll come to a point where like, five minutes before the plan is to commence, I could just care less to hang out with them. So, like, I just begin to think of elaborate excuses to get out of it. I spend hours preparing a story and I tell it to myself enough times that it almost becomes real. “Yeah, no man, my dad is like pissed I didn’t wash the dog, and I got to do that, then I have to move some furniture with my dad upstairs in our loft and, you know, it’s just too much of a fucking hassle… Can we just do this never, on a different day of something?” And then I think about the story some more and it’s like, I don’t have a dog… I don’t have a loft… What furniture would I be moving? The plan just falls apart in my head and I just end up telling them “I got thing…” That’s it, plain and simple.

With women, it’s the fucking worst, because, I’m like, “King Story Fabricator,” and I almost feel compelled to break down everything and analysis it. I dunno why. I hate it, really. So there they are, going off on a list of things they have to do; “I have this meeting that I have to go to, and then I want to go work out for a little bit, and then I have this seven hour gap to do a whole load of nothing, so, I’ll probably get a coffee somewhere, and  then I’m meeting up with a friend at like 6ish to do a thing that I could probably do another day and, so, I can’t do anything today.” So, I sit back, take that whole schedule in, and I work it out and time it all out in my head systematically. “The meeting will take about an hour, working out is another hour, just to get ruined by a coffee trip to MaryLou’s, seven hours to be frumpy , and then irrelevantly see a friend… Okay, so for starters, go to that meeting.  While you’re on your way to that meeting, tell that friend that excuse you gave me and let him systematically break it down in his own way. Second, don’t be frumpy and go work out. I’ll buy you a coffee after.  Lastly, well, now your day is suddenly freed up… And of course, with women, there’s no way around that schedule. Its set in fucking stone, notarized, and sent off to some other irrelevant person. Then you go and bargain for time. “Well, what about the seven hour gap of nothingness? Coffee? Maybe?” Then four hours later, I get an angry the angry text, “I’m busy!” Sometimes, there just isn’t a return text. I get it, I’m not stupid. I’m not the person who gets pissy about getting ditched. I don’t even call it getting ditched. I call it, “getting bumped from the schedule.” Yes, it’s the same thing. So, when I get pumped from the schedule, I get depressed, and then I go and drive around wasting gas, hit up Instagram and see everyone’s hipster photos of doing non-hipster things that are now hipster things. Shit like that.

I feel like Instagram is almost becoming like the Myspace of old. You know, when people takean action picture of someone doing a thing that anyone viewing it, is going to have no frame of reference. Just a thought. I’ll let you soak it in a bit.

I noticed like two weeks ago, people evidently fell into some “hard times.” Now, I’m not going to divulge the actual events in which transpired. However, I’ll comment by saying, it was hilarious, and I always love reading a good Facebook fight as much as the next person. I mean, I had to take a break at work just to catch up on this. But it wasn’t just one person. There were a few other examples of things that went down.  Just people posting stuff about Karma being a bitch and all that. Can we be realistic for a second? Why does Karma have to be a bitch and why do you have to stand and bask in the glory of some battle you won? What did you just fucking accomplish? What, you watched someone gets arrested? You had a witty comeback? You beat some skank up cause she was all over your man? You posted tasteless pictures of someone one Facebook because you have a grudge with them? Well aren’t you fucking special. At the end of the day, why would you invest all that time in orchestrating some deviant plan? But what do I know. I choose my friends wisely. I stay away from people who have a shady past. I don’t live a reckless lifestyle. I don’t seek out ways for an “escape.” I don’t make up excuses for my insecurities and insanities. I deal with my problems accordingly. I stay away from grudges. I get it, people hate me too, but you know, the fucks I give aren’t that high in that area.  At the end of it all, why you gotta be so mean?

So, No Shit, There I Was...

           Ben Affleck is Batman. Okay, now that we got that out of the way, we can move on to the more pressing and pointless bantering.

So no shit, there I was, eating a fucking salad—because, every good story DOES start with eating a damn good salad. I don’t understand why salad gets such a bad rap. It’s a fucking tasteless leaf and when you put some form of flavoring shit on it, it becomes tasty and flavorful.  Nope, didn’t really have a point there. I just wanted to share that tidbit with you.

                Great news, it will be September. Woohoo! Summer is basically over and I’m openly content with that. I’m happy for this because, I work in retail, and the dummy tourists will not be visiting. I’ve done an amazing job by not sounding off on them. It’s just been a long summer. I think they have been the dumbest, most brainless, people I’ve seen in a long time. Just some dumb fucking people. Dip shit after dip shit. But you know, I could bitch and complain and say shit like, “Oh my Gawd, Rebecca, this bitch pissed me off and I got all angry pants, and I had to bite my tongue and if this bitch had said one more thing, she would totally for regret that shit.” I mean, that’s cool and all, but I’ve learned, sometime just nodding at the idiocy around you and silently knowing that you’re the smartest person in the room is much more self-satisfying than having to remind everyone in some way that you are the smartest person in the room.

                Speaking of dumb bitches that suck at fucking life; so there I am driving down a road. This bitch pulls out in front of me like she’s fucking entitled to every space in her car reach. I’m driving a fucking moving truck. You know, a vehicle that doesn’t necessarily stop on a dime. So she pulls out of this street. I ride up on her ass because, fuck you, and she sticks her hand out to fucking wave. I’m thinking, okay, I didn’t have much of a fucking choice in this matter, but okay… We drive maybe another 100 feet and the bitch stops all fucking traffic with her car to just let everyone pull out on this one particular street. Now, I get it if you’re making a turn somewhere and you want to let a car or two go on their merry ways, but this woman took it upon herself to, not only hold me up and the five cars behind me, but the four other cars from the oncoming traffic. I immediately went from, meh to raging maniac in literally 4 seconds. I laid on my horn for a good minute continuously screaming, “Are you fucking kidding me you dumb fucking cunt!” She won that battle I’m afraid. However, the dude on the other side wasn’t having it either so he just said, “thug life!” and finally broke up the traffic halt. He was definitely the MVP. I was the coach who randomly argued nothing to the umpire for no reason just to get ejected from the game. Regardless, she was a fucking cunt and I hope she falls down her basement stair, breaks her back, and manages to land with her face submerged enough underwater as her basement suddenly becomes flooded. Hopefully fate will prevail in my favor. One can only hope...

                So this is a story that has no relevance to anything. It was just a thought that propped in my mind while I was checking out this girl the other day. So there I was doing my scanning of this chick in a bathing suit and notice she's tatted up. I'm thinking, that’s a really cool tattoo, I wish I could see the rest. After realizing what I wanted to ask, nonchalantly, I realized I’d be basically asking to see her vagina as her tattoo stemmed into that region. That wouldn’t be an issue to me, but I felt people wouldn’t be like, “oh yeah sure, let me pull my bottom off so you can get the whole view. This then prompted me into thinking up a way to explain myself if I were to make an attempted as to why I wanted to see her tats/vag. Finally, after digging myself in such a deep hole, in my mind and quite possibly real life, I'd probably just give up, saying, "I'm more curious to see what it looks like when you’re 75 anyways..."

                …and with that in mind, I’m done for the night. Again, as I generally do, I wanted to write something really cool and at the end of this, zero relevant things were brought up. Cheers.

Val Kilmer being....Fat