End Of The Line

I’m not seething anymore, but I’m still hurt and offended. What hurt me the most, I guess, was the implication that I was boring. While this other person was so fun and interesting so was worth several late nights in a row, I was so boring and sleep-inducing that I wasn’t even worth one hour on a Saturday night. Shit, I wasn’t worth even five fucking minutes of their time until I bitched vehemently about it. And even then, it was so half-hearted and patronizing that I couldn’t stand it.

And the really offensive and insulting part was that it wasn’t even spoken. I remember a blog I wrote last year when I said the biggest way to insult me is to call me boring and uninteresting. And this was even worse. I mean, if I was told I was uninteresting, I would have been hurt, but I wouldn’t have been this angry. But that person was leading me on with words, saying how important I was to that person, while their actions CLEARLY told me that I was so uninteresting and dull that I wasn’t even worth five fucking minutes, while, as I mentioned before, spending like three nights up with this other person. And after all, actions are much more honest that words.

And you know what? If someone thinks I’m that dull, fine. I don’t want anything to do with that kind of a person anyways. I’ll just give my blessing to them and go away quietly and die, or something. It’s ok with me. I got nothing to lose anyways. Never wanted to be so old to be considered boring. So I think I should go away before I become even more useless and pathetic.

Good bye, cruel world.

So I Said I Never Get Emotional

Just when I was thinking I was finally getting out of my depression, my bad luck strikes again. Someone who I thought was my friend and actually care about me went and stabbed me in the back. Over the weekend, I requested, no, BEGGED ON MY KNEES for a favor. And got refused. And now that person, completely ignoring me, went and did that favor for someone else. Twice. In a row. Not only that, but I don’t know if I’m death-defyingly boring or something, but that person ALWAYS goes to bed at 10 PM sharp when with me, even on weekends, but with spent two nights up to 2 in the fucking morning in a row on weeknights with this other person. The first night, I was just hurt. Now it’s pissing me off. I just thought that person was like that with everyone. Turns out, it was only me who was that somniating. Perfectly willing to stay up all night with anyone else that comes around, except me. I might be desperate and pathetic, but I am not THAT desperate and pathetic. Even someone as desperate and pathetic as me don’t need that kind of a “friend”.

I guess I was wrong thinking that that person was actually a friend. Not even a former friend. Was killing some time until someone better came by. So basically I was used. And I guess that’s that.

Jesus fucking Christ, I soooo want to kill myself right now. Or even worse, cry. I wish I was still living on the 24th floor so I can throw myself out the window or something. I mean, I lived through a lot, but I was never betrayed like this. If I’m not even worth an extra hour on a Saturday night and can be ignored at will, I guess I can just go and die, I guess.

I am so fucking pissed off that I’m shaking, and I’ve been shaking for an hour. And I’m not even horny. It’s THAT serious. Sheesh. Can’t fucking believe I worked for a year and a half for THIS. Being betrayed by someone who I once thought was a very good friend. It was all a big fucking lie, I guess. Or else, there's no other explanation to how I was pushed aside like fucking yesterday's newpaper four days in a row.

So I’m going to bed. Wish I can die in my sleep and not wake up. But with my luck, that will never happen, either. Gonna live forever, being treated like shit from people who I thought were friends, but was just using me as a place card. DAMMIT.

When Geeks Attack

I can't stand all these geeks making disparaging remarks about the Superbowl. And as a former high school football player, I take great umbrage and offense to that. I mean, what did we ever do to you? Did we ever steal your girlfriend? Did we ever make you look small and pathetic? Did we ever lock you up in your own locker? Did we ever beat you up? Did we ever flush your head in the toilet bowl? Did we ever shave the inner half of each eyebrow off?

Ok. So we did. But so what? It was all in good fun.

And besides, you mention ONE THING wrong with their little Clio or the Linux configuration, and the geeks throw the biggest pansy-ass hissy fit ever. Talk about the pot calling the kettle black.

Yellow Bellied Black Snake

Part of my J-O-B entails me supervising some construction work, because my company is building a rather large extension to our facilities in a very tight schedule. And of course, I live on a tropical island. So I've been developing a tan. The problem is, I'm outside in jeans and a shirt, so only my arms and face get tanned. Everywhere else is lily white. Oh, and except for my unit. For some reason, it hardly ever gets out in the sun, but it's tanned too. I said it before, I'm an honorary black man. Heh.

And to make it even worse, one of my friends called me sickly looking when I was without my shirt. Said I looked if I was ill or something. GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR. Soon as I have a couple of days off, I'm hitting the beach and getting an all-over tan. Of course, with my luck, the day I hit the beach will be the day that rains all day.

Morality Tail

Now I am not the most moral person in the world. In fact, can't say I have much morals, period. But I know this guy who keeps a mistress on the side and his wife one day landed in the ER with a piece of broken off cucumber inside her. Everyone knows I got nothing against keeping a piece or two or three on the side. But that's only when you're satisfying the main partner first. Or if your partner is not providing enough lovin'. Then it's all cool. But I don't understand just why you're married if you're not gonna keep him or her sexually satisfied and in the meantime, fucking someone else. If you're not fucking at all, then ok, it's not optimal but I UNDERSTAND.

Let me just say, the wife caught him in the act at an anonymous phone tip. Serves the bastard right.

Brain Juice

I don't know what's up, but for some reason, I had this terrible urge to express myself recently. Problem is, I can't think of a single good idea to write about. But I'm sure if I get an idea, I can kick ass with it. Will be the best thing I ever wrote, most likely. Only if I can come up with that one idea.

Plastic Syndrome

I don't know if this is true or not, since I read it in a sports tabloid. In any event, it had this article about the strange and/or outrageous demands of female superstars who think they're princesses. And of Jennifer Lopez, one of her demands to Ben Affleck was that he sexually satisfy her at least 3 times a week. You know what? Most guys would give their left leg, arm, chest, in fact, whole left side of the body save the relevant parts if they can nail Jennifer Lopez three times a week, even before she can ever demand it. I guess being handsome, rich, and saving the world from nuclear terrorists has its fringe benefits, after all.

The Magic Dragon

Every morning I open my eyes with a deep longing to die. I don't know what it is about my life, but it makes me feel sad and small. Perhaps it's intense dissatisfaction with my place in this world or a desire to yell a general "do-over". Well, that's not true. I don't want a do-over. I just want it to end. Getting out of bed and getting ready for work is a strenous exercise of self-control.

As the day wears on, it becomes a little bearable. Or I'm too busy to think, and everyone knows, my brain can only handle one train of thought at a time. Nevertheless, whenever I have a spare minute, when I'm driving, taking a break, or so on, I wonder what would be the best way to die. I want something that is quick and painless. And preferably without warning. If I wasn't so chickenshit about pain, I would be talking to my maker or makeress personally, and by now, engaged in deep philosophical discussion on the differences of European porn and Japanese porn. Of course, no self-respecting porn connoisseur would be caught dead with a professionally made American porn.

When I get home, I try to tell myself that it wasn't so bad-that I survived another day. I mean, I can bullshit myself with the best of them. So I smoke my cigarettes, drink my booze, trying to will myself to forget.

Things would be so much easier if I was just a little dumber. I'm not smart enough to get out of this, but I'm just smart enough to realize this pathetic existence I call my life.

Bah. I'm gonna go get drunk. Maybe I'll die tomorrow.

Resolution, Baby!

1. Get laid.
2. Score a girlfriend.
3. Get laid.
4. Become a multi-billionaire.
5. Get laid.
6. Find the cure for cancer.
7. Get laid.
8. Design a perpetual motion machine.
9. Get laid.
10. Write a Pulitzer Prize-winning novel.
11. And did I mention get laid?

So that's my new year's resolution. I think it's doable. Except for number two. I make that resolution every year, and that always comes back and bites me in the ass. And number 11 ain't no walk in the park, either. But I think if somehow those two things happen, I think the other things on the list will naturally fall into place.

But it will never happen. I have unwavering confidence in that.