Beret-wearing bathroom-hogger guy. Bonjour, I enjoy making fun of your beret as much as the next patron, but it’s harder for me to really sink my teeth into my snap judgment when you’ve been in the bathroom for twenty minutes. What are you doing in there? And why are you making it impossible for me to feel comfortable going in afterward? You are a terrible, terrible person, I just know it.
My never-ending quest to force my brain to stop hating people has brought me straight to the practices of the Far East, where I’m pretty sure monks and other calm individuals sit around on mountaintops and meditate all day. I’d love to see how centered those lip-sealers would be if I unleashed, say, a gaggle of annoying long-storytellers into their hallowed personal space. Let’s make it happen!
As the reluctant recipient of my cousin-in-law’s loser gift during a recent White Elephant Christmas Exchange, I feel even more like a victim these days than usual. I must say, it’s nice to be back in my comfort zone! Since passive-aggressive revenge against my latest nemesis isn’t possible for at least another year, it’s probably unnecessary to continue blogging about this topic … pffft, are you kidding? I didn’t get where I am today in the ongoing feud department by simply forgiving and forgetting.
If there’s one thing I excel at, it’s hating people. In fact, I’m doing it right now! I’ve been practicing since I first emerged from my mother’s womb and silently started feuding with this one nurse who was judging me like I was some sort FREAK with WEBBED TOES. I don’t care if it was true or not, which it was. If memory serves, just as she was swaddling my little tooshie, I wiggled all eight of my toes and had an IBS attack all over her, booyah.