It's true, I'm a major pain in the ass. Which is fine. Because I'm a lovely pain in the ass. The problem is, only people who are half retard or full of patience are able to deal with pains in the ass such as me. Those people are rare, and when we do find them, we bitch at them so much it is a wonder they don't run off faster than clients in a massage parlor during a police raid.
I love to bitch. I absolutely love it. I love it even more when I have determined that your logic behind something is stupid or it disagrees with my own. That's when I tell you, in the most bitchy way, how I think you are retarded and should look at things in a different way. My way. The. Right. Way. Some people do not like this type of behavior. Some people get so pissed at my incessant need to explain to you how wrong you really are that they start to cuss me back and the whole "debate" becomes one big clusterfuck of insults. And then it stops to make sense totally.
This is usually how things go. Even with Gator sometimes. But usually, most of the time, he seems to be pretty patient with me. What he gets so revved up about is how I can go from zero to bitch to "oh, I found some shoes today that I HAVE to buy" back to bitch back to zero in a matter of ummm, about 5 minutes. Because, lets be real, my attention span is longer than 30 seconds. Which is why I can write more than two sentences on here before I get sidetracked with something else and have to figure out the original point. Not some fabricated one adjusted as I go. In fact, it has already happened. This shit sucks...
I would give you examples of this in action (the quickness of happy to pissed back to happy), but then I'd become the bitchee* instead of the bitcher* for telling it all wrong, or exaggerating how wonderful I am, or for not understanding what he was saying. And let me just point out, that being on the receiving end of a bitch session, is never, ever where I want to be. I'm much better at pretending you're wrong than admitting that I may be. Which really does make life more interesting.
*If those are not words, well, they are now. And you're welcome. Feel free to use them anytime.
Anyway, Gator, he is usually pretty easy to get along with and doesn't always fall into my bait of "I just want to argue with you to argue with you." Which is great, because those people are hard to find. For example, the events from tonight.
Let me start out by saying that I totally am an animal lover. Anyone that knows me, knows this is true. I love them, big, small, smelly, whatever. I also want to say that because dogs are so awesome, you can use them for any verbal frustrations you might have, and they just look at you all happy that you're back from that long journey you went on for the whole 30 minutes you were gone. That's why I love them. They accept me for who I am, and they are always happy that I'm home.
Tonight, after work, at Gator's house, I walk through the hallway, then the kitchen, to the family room where I'm watching the news and philosophizing over great thoughts such as "hmmm, I wonder why Spongebob lives in a pineapple" when I decide to get up and walk through the kitchen for reasons unknown. This time, I walked through without shoes. And this is significant why? Well, because Gator's dog apparently pissed in the floor. And while I was walking, I not so gracefully slipped in this random puddle of dog urine.
But I didn't just slip. I landed in such a way that had I been mid-air and doing stunts for the Matrix, I'd have a fucking Oscar. No lie. My legs slid apart, one in front, one in back. My shin landed in the pee. My foot that slid forward sloshed it every friggin' where. My toes bent in a direction that they shouldn't have, and I sprained my damn wrist. It wasn't pretty. I got up as fast as I could, assessed the damage, thought to myself "screw it, I'll clean it later" and went straight to the shower. Luckily I'm clean, and now so is the floor, but every time I talk to Gator, I'm all "fuck your dog."
His response? Well, it was so anticlimactic, and just plain lame. He said, "so we're out ten grand for not having a camera?" Now, even in my bitchiest of bitchy ways, there is no way that I could argue away that logic. Really. Had this happened to someone else, I would have laughed so hard I would have pissed right beside the dog's puddle. I'm even laughing now. But seriously, fuck that dog.
--Your Animal Loving Meg