Tuesday, November 25, 2003

I disapprove of my friend's potential boyfriend (currently on layaway). Here's my rant to that ye olde bad-case-of-gonorrhea:

The major thing is his unconscious false sense of identity. Says I'm shallow like it was the worst insult allowed on Skinamax, when it's him who labels people. "I don't go for girls who look like that." What happened to "getting to know their personality"? I call him a walking cliché, and he (understandably) resents it:

"Yeah, so ... I'm gonna go and play some Dylan on my guitar."

Ooh goody gumdrops, Dylan! I mean, who hasn't played Dylan when they first started plucking that universal symbol for teenage angst and isolation? If he was going for originality, he could've at least lied and said "Tom Petty". And would've impressed me more if he had name dropped, "and the Heartbreakers."

Speaking of originality. When did talking out of your over-ripe, tangerine ass, make you a non-conformist? Constantly protesting about the lack of free speech, when in truth, it is he who can't come up with controversial enough remarks to "stir the pot", as they say. News flash: Being able to make wacko (I mean, stupid) statements of that nature without getting arrested probably signifies your status as a free citizen in a democratically-ruled country. If you were really chained by society, how the hell are you able to gain access to information? From a qualified Frenchie who smuggles it in his anal cavity for 6 weeks? Presumably ... not. *Ugh ... sounding really pro-West right now, but just being the devil's advocate, for the sake of argument* Again, it would've impressed me more if he wasn't quoting information already available in the public domain. "George Bush is an idiot." Yeah, and cows are gassy. Tell me something everyone but the Bush administra ... No, I take it back because they're actually extra familiar with the ex-coke addict's IQ of 80. However, if he had said something like Cheney and [Deputy Secretary of Defense] Wolfowitz had been trying to get the US to invade Iraq since the yonder years of Bush Sr. , then I would've acted more partial to him and the need to mistreat Mr. Herpes Simplex, version D-U-M, would've never occurred to me.

Oh, and he gloats like a pre-schooler who had just successfully fished out his own poop ... 'cept pre-schoolers don't ask rhetorical questions like, "Did you get published in the paper? Oh, no? So shhhhh." When in fact, I was ... just days later.

Yes, I find it hard to believe that he garners admiration/loin lust from the opposite sex at all. And it would probably take me the greater part of next week to scratch the surface of his Woody Allen-esque neuroticism:

"I don't want her to think that's me because I'm not like that. Unless you told her I am. Which I'm not. Then again, you've probably already gone ahead and told her whatever the hell it was you were thinking. I have feelings, you know. Aww ... now you're gonna tell her that, too. I can't trust anyone. You suck."

After all that, the simple reason I'm not "supporting" this bound-to-fail union is because I just don't go for the whole idea. I guess I'm bias, since I, personally, go for "smarts" (I know, I know. Wiener Boy was an exception ... okay, so maybe "smarts" are a given. It's moreso ... "talent". Okay, maybe not even that. Just "Wiener-quotient"). No, I'm not wallowing in my own insecurities nor am I a bitteratti, living out the rest of her life in a perpetual state of spinsterhood. He's not quick on his toes, he merely warms them with his woolly slippers. He's always referring back to his ex's behaviour. And my jabs are met by a blank stare, or a Horatio Sanz-type reply:

"Uh, well .. maybe, I'll donate an insult ... to you, bad guys ...then."*

And I think that last point alone makes him a pussy in my book.

But I will never, ever, try to sabotage their inevitable hook-up. Although, I tell them my discontent stems from not wanting to feel like a third wheel in their presence (in Slovak, it's "5th wheel under mule cart" or something). In truth, it's not.

He's a joke. And he'll now be the joke that sits on the couch with his feet on the coffee table, eating pogos with his hands, smearing grease on the afghans and leaving skid-marks in his pants.

Just too close for comfort.

*Counter-reply: "I'm sure that's a devastating comeback in the break room at Circuit City."