Today, B and I decided to head to the mall after work and do a little shopping. Lucky for us, M just happened to be there tossing more of our rent money into the wind. When we saw her, she had a something in a make-shift garment bag. Naturally, we asked what the hell she bought. It turns out that she bought her birthday dress (for the club-outing on Saturday) and it is quite the number! It is an extremely short black dress with a lot of razzle-dazzle to it. My first question, being the Debbie downer that I am, was of course, “How much was it?” And, true to form, M responds with, ‘I don’t know, it was like a million percent on sale!” Oh, well it must have been a bargain then!
Unfortunately, because we happened to find her at the mall, we were stuck with her the rest of our trip. We passed Le Chateau and M mentions that she’s totally going to return this shirt she bought last week and use the money to buy some more shoes. I know, you’re wondering, as I was, “didn’t M buy two new pairs of shoes just DAYS ago? Why, yes, she did! I certainly can’t let that go, so I ask her just that. “Well, yes, I did buy new shoes but I can’t walk or dance in the purple ones.” B pipes in, “You can’t walk in the green ones you wore last week either.” Great. At least 100 bucks, or 1/5 of her half of the rent, shat away on shoes she will never fucking wear.
We grabbed something to eat in the food court and sat down for some lovely dinner convo – M constantly and relentlessly attacking us with stories from Starbucks that, and I know I’ve said this before, I DON’T FUCKING CARE ABOUT. M has a new best friend that works with her at Starbucks! For the sake of the blog, we will call him Gayboy, because he is, in fact, uber gay. Now, I don’t have a problem with people being gay, but I am also not a fag hag, or someone who simply MUST and intentionally surround themselves with gay people. That shit is an epidemic and I don’t understand it.
M is so clearly in love with Gayboy that she goes into these various stories about their at-work escapades. She tirelessly tells us about all the absolutely hilarious things that Gayboy has done this week. The only problem is, the shit isn’t funny. And she wouldn’t find it funny either, if it wasn’t for the fact that buddy is gay. For example: A good looking male customer comes in and, through idle chit chat, they discover that he is a photographer. After he leaves, Gayboy turns around to M and says, “He can take my picture any time!” This would only be barely funny if it was in a 1992 Hugh Fucking Grant movie.
Note: being gay/black/old/young/white/brown/pink/handicapped/etc does not make you funny. You’re either blessed with the shit (ie. Me) or you aren’t. Just because you’re saying it with a lisp… god. You get the point.
Ok, I deleted everything in my inbox so it has room for you all to e-mail me and tell me how much of a racist, sexist, homophobic, asshole I am.
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2 comments:
Good to see you're still writing this blog. I was worried there back in January when there was a long gap between posts.
It's all so fucking hilarious in a shock n awe tragic sort of way. Your roomate is so dumb that it really has become your duty to mankind- for the betterment of the species- that you log her idiocy. Hopefully, more people will read this and the overall IQ of the planet will increase.
Thanks for the words of encouragement. I need all I can get living with this mess.
I do intend to keep the blog going for as long as I am living with my best buddy!! Hopefully not eternity.
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