I’m going to speak badly of people now. (Well, write — not write badly — but you know.)
I like to do that from time to time, just to make sure the people who follow this blog remember that it’s not a “Nice Lady Blog,” and because I suspect some of these people read my blog, and I like to passive-aggressively insult them.
I’d do it to their faces, I really would, but they’re not coming around to chat for some reason…
It is a very primal, juvenile thing to make fun of, or even fear, that which we do not understand.
Apparently, I am primal and juvenile.
I’m also extremely judgmental, but only about stupid petty shit.
Live and let live and all that.
UNLESS YOU FALL INTO THESE CATEGORIES:
Ordering beef cooked at any temperature above medium rare is not right. I mean, if seeing blood makes you squeamish, then you’ve got no right to eat an animal to begin with. If you had to kill that cow, and butcher it yourself, you’d be fainting and getting trampled, and that means you’re not fit to survive, so don’t tell me you need your meat cooked well. I will not “re-fire” it because you are a sissy-pants carnivore. You wanna gnaw on some black and gray char-grilled beef, you best do that somewhere else. Take your “steak sauce” with you, whatever the fuck that is.
You should be a patriot no matter where you live. We arrogant Americans are very good at patriotism, “U-S-A!” and look at us, our government is a total wreck, but still we love who we are. Think of it like body acceptance, only for your country.
People who are afraid of goldfish are beyond my comprehension. Shrieking in horror at the sight of Elmo’s goldfish, Dorothy, will make me despise you just a little bit.
If you only ever call people while you’re stuck in traffic, or because your BFF is mad at you and you need us to call her a bitch with you, or because you’re afraid to be alone with your own thoughts for two seconds, we can tell. Blah blah blah.
You people who know the lane is ending, but drive on up and wait til someone lets you in, or worse, you cut someone off — What the fuck is wrong with you?
You’re so self-centered, I bet every time you see a 360-degree mirror, you masturbate to the sound of your own voice.
People who are from the Midwest, who do not like corn, are freaks of nature. I’m not talkin about the medically prohibited, I mean simply do not like corn. Do not bring a non-corn-eatin mother fucker to my house for dinner. I will be far too blown away to maintain any sense of decorum.
“Pass the green beans? PASS THE GREEN BEANS?! Is there something wrong with your CORRRN?”
I just showed you who I am, so you can shake your head and say, “That Joey, she ain’t right.”
And yet, so right.