To protect the identity of the asshole I am about to talk about, I will call him "Steven - the selfish, sleazy fuck- face".
A bunch of my friends and I planned a camping trip for the weekend. I was so excited to finally get out in the water and try new thing. Who best to do this with then your good friends, right? The week flew by and on Thursday I find out that one friend can't go because of babysitting issues and the other decided to fly home for 3 weeks. :( That only left me and this guy, "Steven".
After talking to him about it Thursday, he was still in and wanted us to go together. I was hesitant to do so, because I am not the most adventurous and I really didn't know "Steven" that well. We may have hung out once or twice before. To be quite honest with you, each time he was trying to hit on my one friend. He seemed cocky and fake, but hell, I gotta give it a shot. I need the practice talking to a man.
After talking to him about it Thursday, he was still in and wanted us to go together. I was hesitant to do so, because I am not the most adventurous and I really didn't know "Steven" that well. We may have hung out once or twice before. To be quite honest with you, each time he was trying to hit on my one friend. He seemed cocky and fake, but hell, I gotta give it a shot. I need the practice talking to a man.
Here is a little background on "Steven - the selfish, sleazy fuck-face". He is a well educated man who works in finance and is originally from Indiana (a woman automatically thinks this means a sweet, southern boy, right? WRONG). I was trying to give him the benefit of the doubt.
The first rule in my gardening handbook - if you notice a few weeds growing in your precious garden - whack 'em and move on. I never seem to pay attention to my instincts nor do I pay attention to the little details of a man's behavior.
The things I do for love... leads to my downfall.
The first rule in my gardening handbook - if you notice a few weeds growing in your precious garden - whack 'em and move on. I never seem to pay attention to my instincts nor do I pay attention to the little details of a man's behavior.
The things I do for love... leads to my downfall.
Steve calls me Saturday afternoon to let me know that since he cannot find a place to build a "cool" campfire, he didn't want to go anymore. Well, thanks for telling me now asshole after I have been freaking out for the past two days trying to figure out what the heck I am even going to talk about with you in the middle of nowhere! Not only that, you come up with the lamest excuse of all time. Sorry, we can't go back to your dumb boy scout days of playing with fire and shitting in the woods with all your buddies. Lame brotha, lame. You would have thought that I would be elated that this idiot bailed, but I was thinking, "my research - what is going to happen to my blog?". So, I give in like any other girl in such an awkward position in her life. I put my game face back on and put my powers to the test the only way I know how - through a man's stomach.
I try and be nice to "Steven - the selfish, sleazy fuck-face", and invite him over to hang out. He said, "Well, what do you plan on doing?" I said, "Cooking Chicken Parmesan and baking cookies". (I like to cook, it makes me happy.) He said, "ok, sweet! I will see you at 6:00." I run to the store about four times because I kept forgetting things and I am too worried about what the fuck we are even going to talk about for four hours. Not to mention, I got the same annoying cashier every time that I kneeeew would take forever to ring up fifteen items (or less) in the the express lane. It was bad joke the managers pulled on us making us think we would even get out of the store any faster (in under 2 hours).
This cashier was crazy slow. I know fast cashiers. I used to be one back in the day. I would scan items so fast because I memorized where the bar codes are on every item in the store and knew every code for fruits and vegetables (for instance, bananas, code 4011) and pack every bag perfectly separating the cold and dry goods (unlike sexy bagger). This lady would pull people's carts behind her register and twist herself all up in the scanner cord to scan every item in the cart and then bag the food. Listen lady, if you are going to go anywhere in the grocery store business, you needs to know what you are working with. Food, people like to get in and out quickly, they aren't going in there to make conversation with you. I know, after asking customers every day, "how are you?" with no response from the customer, that I should just give up. You learn that too in customer service, which I have the pleasure and luxury to do at the tender age of 26. People don't care who you are and how you feel, they only care about one thing - themselves and their families. Sucks, but that's life - you will see, Ms. Sally the cashier. Also, Sally, if you happen to get the same customer in the same day, please do not ask them every time if they would like to donate money to a particular organization. We feel good the first two times we donate, but feel like shit in front of everyone else when you finally start to say no the third time. Every time she saw me she would give me a free bag of Lay's salty chips and ask me if I would like to donate money to buy water for the needy. I did it the first two times lady, do you really have to make me feel guilty in front of everyone. Thank you, Sally, you made my day.
This cashier was crazy slow. I know fast cashiers. I used to be one back in the day. I would scan items so fast because I memorized where the bar codes are on every item in the store and knew every code for fruits and vegetables (for instance, bananas, code 4011) and pack every bag perfectly separating the cold and dry goods (unlike sexy bagger). This lady would pull people's carts behind her register and twist herself all up in the scanner cord to scan every item in the cart and then bag the food. Listen lady, if you are going to go anywhere in the grocery store business, you needs to know what you are working with. Food, people like to get in and out quickly, they aren't going in there to make conversation with you. I know, after asking customers every day, "how are you?" with no response from the customer, that I should just give up. You learn that too in customer service, which I have the pleasure and luxury to do at the tender age of 26. People don't care who you are and how you feel, they only care about one thing - themselves and their families. Sucks, but that's life - you will see, Ms. Sally the cashier. Also, Sally, if you happen to get the same customer in the same day, please do not ask them every time if they would like to donate money to a particular organization. We feel good the first two times we donate, but feel like shit in front of everyone else when you finally start to say no the third time. Every time she saw me she would give me a free bag of Lay's salty chips and ask me if I would like to donate money to buy water for the needy. I did it the first two times lady, do you really have to make me feel guilty in front of everyone. Thank you, Sally, you made my day.
I digress.
This is where it gets interesting. I go home and bust my ass to make homemade pasta sauce (fresh tomatoes and herbs) and Italian breaded chicken for this douche and he has the nerve to show up 45 minutes late and stoned out of his mind. First thing he does is grab my little kitty, Pirate, (who was minding his own business, by the way, and starts fucking with him. I wanted to speak up for my baby, "He doesn't like to be molested, do you mind stepping away?" Then he opens a bottle of my wine after saying, "Hey, little lady." (that's all he said!), grabs the remote, and plays a documentary on "Potheads - Legalize it man".
Here's the kicker...
I have a huge couch. He doesn't even sit facing me to try and make conversation, he hides in the corner, out of view, so that he can wrap his chicken legs around my couch cushions, practically humping them. Sad really, like a puppy.
He got up twice; once to pour himself a glass of water which he ended up spilling on the floor and the second time at dinner, dropping and wasting a whole jar of shredded cheese (both of which I clean up). At this point I wanted him to choke on the chicken and pasta; ending the night early for my sake. Didn't quite end the way I wanted it to...
This is where it gets interesting. I go home and bust my ass to make homemade pasta sauce (fresh tomatoes and herbs) and Italian breaded chicken for this douche and he has the nerve to show up 45 minutes late and stoned out of his mind. First thing he does is grab my little kitty, Pirate, (who was minding his own business, by the way, and starts fucking with him. I wanted to speak up for my baby, "He doesn't like to be molested, do you mind stepping away?" Then he opens a bottle of my wine after saying, "Hey, little lady." (that's all he said!), grabs the remote, and plays a documentary on "Potheads - Legalize it man".
Here's the kicker...
I have a huge couch. He doesn't even sit facing me to try and make conversation, he hides in the corner, out of view, so that he can wrap his chicken legs around my couch cushions, practically humping them. Sad really, like a puppy.
He got up twice; once to pour himself a glass of water which he ended up spilling on the floor and the second time at dinner, dropping and wasting a whole jar of shredded cheese (both of which I clean up). At this point I wanted him to choke on the chicken and pasta; ending the night early for my sake. Didn't quite end the way I wanted it to...
It dragged on for hours. I would ask him a question and he wouldn't even turn his head to acknowledge that I was even talking, let alone even answer the damn question. I tried to make a joke about the people on television. No response, not even a fake laugh. Dumb bastard! Give me all my food back, barf it up now! You are wasting my fucking time, buddy. I can't have a conversation with myself, dick.
Side-note: Oh, and then I guess he started to get really hot because he would use one of my dish cloths to dry his nasty sweat off his pedophile beard thing he has going on. Did anyone ever tell you, "Steven", that facial hair does make you look like a creepy pedophile? Guess not.
Side-note: Oh, and then I guess he started to get really hot because he would use one of my dish cloths to dry his nasty sweat off his pedophile beard thing he has going on. Did anyone ever tell you, "Steven", that facial hair does make you look like a creepy pedophile? Guess not.
After he had his fill with about $25 worth of my hard-earned money he decided to mess with my babies again. Shining laser lights in their eyes, making them claw my walls and furniture like a freakin' idiot. I tried to hint to him that I wasn't so thrilled but he wasn't getting my drift. I literally had to take the toy away from this small child. I felt like I was baby-sitting and I wasn't even being paid for it. How would you like it if I turned into a giant and put the laser right in your eyes? How would you like that? I didn't think so. Close my garden gates.
I wanted him to leave, badly. What excuse did I come up with?
"I don't feel good, I think I'm going to call it a night."
His response, you ask? None. No response, just pets my cat for a good 20 minutes, it might have been 30. I tried rubbing my head and laying down to give him the hint, yet again, NO. Nothing.
What the fuck does a girl need to do to get a massive leech out of her own apartment.
I literally had to walk to the door, gather his keys and wallet and tell him to get the fuck out. Do you really need to bring the bitch out in me?
I wanted him to leave, badly. What excuse did I come up with?
"I don't feel good, I think I'm going to call it a night."
His response, you ask? None. No response, just pets my cat for a good 20 minutes, it might have been 30. I tried rubbing my head and laying down to give him the hint, yet again, NO. Nothing.
What the fuck does a girl need to do to get a massive leech out of her own apartment.
I literally had to walk to the door, gather his keys and wallet and tell him to get the fuck out. Do you really need to bring the bitch out in me?
Does he offer to clean up? Ask me if I need anything? Apologize for being late AND being a douche the entire night? Nope.
Conclusion: Waste of space - "Steven".
Conclusion: Waste of space - "Steven".
My reaction to it all? I sleep in the following day until 2:00 pm and binge on the homemade cookies that I refused to share the night before.
Next Blog... Dear Twin
Next Blog... Dear Twin
Quite a story you tell. I'm sorry you had such a bad time. : (
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