Sunday, May 23, 2010

Passive Aggression

It always is a strange thing, being passive aggressive. I know I do it myself from time to time, unfortunately not being fully aware of its folly. The problem with being passive aggressive lies in when you think you know something which you truly only suspect, regardless of how strongly you believe it. For example, one might offer their children cookies for a snack knowing full well that there are no cookies left, suspecting the children of pilfering the entire lot when, in fact, their spouse is the true culprit.

When we are passive aggressive in this manner we put our targets in an awkward position. The target can either believe that they are the cause of this aggression and seek to resolve the situation, which can often lead to horrendous embarrassment when they find that they are actually not the target at all; or they can believe that they are not the cause of this aggression, which only serves to further aggravate the aggressor; or finally, they could write an ironically passive aggressive blog post because they simply don't know.

In conclusion, if you have something to say to someone, say it. If you don't have something relevant to say, don't say it. And, if you're like me and don't know if you need to say something to someone or not because you're unsure if they didn't say something to you and left it for you to find or if they didn't not say anything to you because it wasn't meant for you in the first place and you found it and thought that they did... well then go ahead and drop a crumb.

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

People I Hate Part 7 Part 2

Neuroscientists.

Maybe I shouldn't hate them as much as I do. Neuroscientists are much like polio inoculations. They cause you pain and discomfort and put you out of commission for a few weeks while you feel like complete and utter shit, but in the end, well, you don't have polio.

So, as much as I hate you, neuroscientists (specifically from the University of Lethbridge), and as much as I never want to have anything to do with you ever again, I have to say "thank you." I'm feeling a lot better now.

People I Hate Part 8

Motherfuckers.

Sorry, I just needed to get that out there. The motherfuckers I'm talking about specifically today are petty thieves.

It's one thing when the natives come in and try to swipe a bottle of rye because they can't afford to pay for it because- nevermind. I'm not trying to pick on the natives here. Maybe it's racist, but when a trashy native comes in to steal from me, I expect it. It's a game. Hell, even when white bums come in to steal from me, I get it; they're homeless. When you don't have much in this world and you drift from fix to fix, I understand that it's hard to get out of that cycle. It's hard to clean up, sober up, and become a functioning member of society (again).

What really pisses me off is when motherfuckers come in to steal when they already have shit. When black kids come in with their hundred dollar jeans, designer oversized t-shirts, likely uncomfortable unbroken but most certainly overpriced hats tilted to a superfluous angle... when they come in and feel like they are entitled to take a bottle of raspberry Smirnoff (grow at least one testicle) it sends me into a self righteous rage. I used the black kids as an example that has happened to me in the past. But, again, I'm not trying to pick on the black kids. Half of them are on the level. A more recent account is when a disgusting middle aged white trash motherfucker came in yesterday and tried to steal a bottle of Captain Morgan's... that was on sale.

This motherfucker not only put the bottle down his pants (inside his underwear, no less.... what a fucking asshole) while on a camera that displayed on the sales floor, but also didn't do a very good job because I could see the fucking bottle through his shirt. The cherry on top? Motherfucker was talking on his cell phone.

Just who the fuck does he think he is?! You can afford that shit and it's on sale. What a motherfucker....

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

Dear Blog

I haven't been around much and I can explain. Holy shit balls, things are going well. I am employed, I have an amazing girl, I'm putting figurative miles between me and the past (even when the past came literally right to me). My friends are still awesome, the summer is going to be awesome, the next semester should be all right (Advanced Fiction Writing class, application only).

But a situation is only as good as its analogy, and for this one, I think I'm flying. Up and up and up. It's exhilarating, exciting, exuberant... I'm out of 'ex' words, but it's awesome. And even though I know everything has got to stall and come crashing down in a horrible flaming wreck of misery, I'm still excited.

I think the best way to explain it is not with my words, but with Freddy Mercury.