Drunken Misanthrope

Ten Things You'll Hate About Me

2010-07-01T12:49:00.006-04:00

So, as I'm delirious from the process of packing and moving and terribly bored with work today, I'm not going to rant about shit. Instead, I'm going to share some bizarre facts about myself with you, because apparently people read this thing.

1) I name things. Like, inanimate objects and things that aren't really objects at all. I have two tiny stuffed snakes that sit on top of my speakers. The green one is Bootsy and the red one is Grandmaster. I've named my tattoos (which are also snakes). The first one is Hermann, somewhat named in honor of Austrian skiier Hermann Maier. The second is Rolfe, named after the Nazi messenger boy in "The Sound of Music". I expect to get another snake tattoo to finish up the arm, and I will choose another German male name for him. I don't know why.

2) I eat incredibly slowly. My father used to yell at me as a child because he thought I ate too fast. As a result, I now finish meals 5-10 minutes after everyone else around me. Thanks, dad.

3) I fucking love movies with retards. I laugh like an absolute asshole. I think retards are hilarious, and if you say you don't, you're a goddamned liar.

4) I get really pissed if I can't complete a crossword puzzle. Which is why I don't even attempt to NY Times ones. I'm just not smart enough.

5) I'm the klutziest fuck on the planet. I have literally walked smack into walls in my apartment while dead sober. I am constantly bumping into door jambs. I'm covered in bruises because I apparently have no fucking depth perception or realization of my own girth.

6) Despite my current status of "graceless fucking spazz", I took ballet for 9 years. I was decent at it, I guess, but my body type is more suited to birthin' babies and pulling plows in Ireland than tripping the light fantastic.

7) I love coffee, but caffeine does not wake me up. If I consume enough of it, I tremble involuntarily, but that's it. Much like every other mind-altering substance, my tolerance for caffeine is ridiculously high.

8) I've had several completely unrelated career plans in my life, zero of which were ever achieved. They are: veterinarian (love animals, but I fall apart around the sick/dying ones, so... no); animator (used to be an okay artist, but didn't think I was good enough to do it for real); Thoroughbred trainer (even planned on going to U Kentucky to major in equine sciences, then realized a life on the racetrack is one of early mornings and abject poverty); investment banker (majored in finance for a while, then figured out that while money is fucking righteous, all the bullshit surrounding it is real boring); criminal psychologist (changed my major to psych, mostly because I wanted to study violent offenders and figure out what was different between us - not much, I'm betting). My career has actually consisted of: computer technician, publicist, computer technician/specialist/whateverIam.

9) I am competitive to the point of total psychosis. In every aspect of life. I have to be the best at fucking everything ever. If I'm not absolutely spectacular at something, I won't do it, or even attempt to do it. I have no ability to do something half-assed. All or nothing. (See #4)

10) I'm an amazing friend, if you can get past my myriad eccentricities. I am stupidly loyal, like a dog, and inappropriately generous, and all I really want to do is make you laugh and have you like me as much as I like you. I'm a firm believer in having just a few really good friends, and having them be the kind of friends for which you'd lie to the cops and dismember bodies and throw their bastard babies into rivers. That being said, my past is littered with former friends who I decided were not worth it. And when I decide you're out, you're out. Out of my life, out of my other friends' lives, and no one ever speaks to you again. As awesome a friend as I am, when the good times are over, I'm the cruelest, iciest cunt you'll ever meet.

And a bonus fact:
11) Instead of being "tired" or "sick", I like to claim I've got some obscure disease. If I'm tired, I've obviously been bitten by a tsetse fly and have African sleeping sickness. I breathed in dust while packing, so now I have Legionnaire's Disease. I also sometimes have rickets, scurvy, dengue hemorrhagic fever, and necrotizing fasciitis.

Womb Closed for Business

2010-03-10T17:30:00.003-05:00

So it seems that I know a lot of people spawning babies these days. Some are having their first, some are onto the second.

It makes me sad, really, because it completely changes/erodes a friendship when one person has kids and the other doesn't. I know that slowly, these awesome people are going to fade from my life, maybe entirely. Having a child is this massive, life-changing, all-consuming event for my friends... and I just don't understand or care very much.

I don't understand kids. I don't like them in general. I can't fathom why someone would willingly, gleefully sign away the rest of his/her life to provide for a small person who will likely turn out to be an average jerk. What's the payoff? That someone loves you? Sure, from about ages two through ten, then maybe again after age 20. And God forbid you screw it up. Then your brat will end up writing on the internets about how much of a miserable drunk she is.

Obviously, I'm a dick, but people still incredulously ask why I don't want kids (I mean, really? You people think there should be small versions of me running around in the world?). There is no simpler way to put it than this:

I'm selfish, and I want to be responsible only for myself.

I want my money to be mine. I want to be able to take vacation from my job on a whim and go visit friends in Los Angeles, Denver, London. I want to go to Europe whenever the mood strikes, not just when there's no school. I want to sleep in on weekends, every damn weekend. I want to buy cool tech shit without worrying about who needs school clothes. I want to come home late, or early, or totally irregularly. I want to go out and get drunk until 4AM. I want to eat peanut butter for dinner and not worry about who else needs to eat. I want to be able to camp out on the couch with my husband/boyfriend and laugh and talk until sunrise, without worrying about waking anyone up. I'm wildly, unapologetically self-absorbed, and no child would benefit from that kind of parent. Moreover, I don't want any of those parts of my life to change. Ever.

No one would argue that having children changes your life. But to me, it seems more like they change it from a life to a prison sentence.

Drunkenly Live-Blogging "Intervention"

2010-01-11T21:03:00.011-05:00

"I don't drink to get drunk. I drink because I like drinking."
Preach it, bitch!

Seriously, dudes, I've been drinking for nearly 20 years and don't have brain damage. And what kind of faggy lush gets brain damage from drinking WINE?

Oh, wait, she drinks because she was fat and ugly as a child? All right, maybe I'm down with her. I mean, that's why I drink now.

And then she got hot at, like, age 16. Never mind, fuck this bitch. Funny and beautiful and smart. I hope her insides bleed.

I'm sorry, a miscarriage spurred the alcoholism? That's it? Boo-fucking-hoo. It pales in comparison to the million past stories from people who have had actual tragedies. That being said, the very idea of being a housewife/stay-at-home mom makes me want to drown in a vat of booze, too.

Also, alcoholism = sickness? No. Fuck that. Cancer is a disease. Multiple sclerosis is a disease. Drinking? Is a behavioral problem. Let's not dress it up all fancy.

Whoa! Bonus thieving crackhead compulsive-gambling enabler? Thanks, Intervention gods!

You know, my father wouldn't be trying to find me to take care of me if I were a 35-year-old crackhead. Maybe these people are so fucked up because their families bail them out every goddamned time.

Drunk's kid just laid out a beautiful burn. Told her aunt/guardian that she was a "great mom". In front of her actual mom. Nice work, kid!

A water glass of white wine? Christ, I'm ready to puke just thinking about it, and I love wine. Being a middle-aged female wino might be the grossest, lamest shit ever. Runner-up to that title might be a gambling crackhead who makes the pre-intervention ALL ABOUT HIM.

I thought the interventionist just told Crackhead that they would send him to a wellness center to "have a drink". Or, you know, "have a dream". I got way too excited, because I'd really be down with a rehab center that let you keep drinking.

DrunkMom is waffling on the going-to-rehab thing. I don't blame her. I like to drink, and the prospect of a lifetime without booze is not fucking cool.

God, this woman and her whiny hitching sobs. I picked the wrong episode to write about, because she is an annoying git.

And to conclude, the phrase "sober-living facility" sounds like the least fun place in the universe.

Misanthropy Briefs: Shut Up, Mexicans

2009-10-30T10:25:00.003-04:00

You know what's my least favorite thing to see on my morning commute? Two fucking Mexicans getting on the train, one with a guitar, the other with a motherfucking accordian. That means I have to endure some ridiculous bleating they consider "a song", which is then followed by public begging.

Here's what's wrong with this whole shitshow:
a) Accordians suck.
b) Mexican music sucks.
c) Mexican music sucks most when done by amateurs trying to drown out the screeching of a subway. Which means they also drown out whatever music you've chosen to listen to that morning.
d) It's 9:00AM, and no one wants to hear anything out of anyone about anything. Especially a midget warbling about matadors or tamales or whatever-the-fuck.
e) I'm on the train because I need to go to work to make money for myself. I'm not giving you a goddamn penny, so don't hold out your cowboy hat to me like I'm supposed to drop cash in there. Get a fucking trabajo like the rest of us.

In closing: Shut up, Mexicans.

More Shit I Hate

2009-10-29T11:43:00.002-04:00

Housewarming parties/baby showers/bridal showers: So I gotta buy you shit now to validate and fund your life decisions? Fuck you. You want a baby, you buy the bullshit for it. Oh, you moved into a new apartment? Unless you’re 20 years old, you have towels and plates, so leave me out of it. Maybe you shouldn’t do ANY of this shit until you have the financial means to do so, and not come begging under the guise of “tradition” and “party”.

People who move their lips while reading: Someone should kill you. That behavior is only acceptable for first-graders who still need to “sound out” the words. You know, because they’re seven fucking years old. You’re just a moron with a first-grade reading level.

Chicks who actually refer to themselves as “hot”: I live for the moments in the future when these whores realize that their looks are gone. “Oh noes! I never cultivated an actual personality because dudes thought I was pretty!” Good luck with that high school diploma and vacant stare, bitch.

Over-dramatic gay men: You are not ACTUALLY a 13-year-old girl, so cut the junior high cafeteria bullshit. You need to calm the fuck down and stop creating your own queeny drama just so you can have something to bitch and eye-roll about. Grow up.

Double-wide strollers: Stop breeding.

People who are really into their birthdays as adults: You narcissistic cunts. The fact that you exist is a not a reason for celebration. Shut the fuck up.

Drunkenly Live Blogging the Fucking VMAs

2009-09-13T20:29:00.024-04:00

This is going to be a terrible idea, so here we go... (caveat: I'm not going to know who most of the people on this damn show are, because I am old)

Pre-Show:
That's enough, Lady Gaga. You're OMGweird as part of your calculated marketing plan, we all fucking get it. It's old and tired.

Buzz Aldrin introducing an award. WHAT IS HAPPENING.

I don't actually know what "The Hills" is, but I know it needs to go away.

Jermaine is sooooo fucking psyched that Michael is dead so he gets invited to places again.

I also don't know who Julius is, but I thought he was gonna punch Beyonce and/or the correspondent. Settle down, dude, YOU'RE the a-hole who walked in front of the camera during a live interview.

The Show:
Uh, wow. Madonna talking about her dead mother. Way to make the MJ intro ALL ABOUT YOU.

Oh my God, I want Pete Wentz to cry on camera so bad. Please, Pete. Please.

So... I like Janet Jackson. She's probably the only semi-sane one in that family, and I feel bad for her, but... that tribute was half-assed.

I am BEYOND SICK of people defiling my beloved Freddie Mercury. Shut your whore mouth, Katy Perry, GODDAMMIT!

If MTV insists on tapping an obscure British comic to host this abortion, why couldn't they pick The Mighty Boosh boys? At least then I might laugh instead of wanting to set this unfunny retard on fire.

HOLY SHIT. Kanye just pulled an ODB "Wu Tang is for the children" moment, but in his typical obnoxious douchebag way. Seriously, dude? I actually dig your music at times, but you make it really hard to do so. What a fucking asshole.

I used to absolutely LOATHE Green Day back in the day, but I now have some weird affection for them. They seem to have an appropriate level of contempt for all this music biz bullshit, and I dig that.

I can't hear "Poker Face" now without thinking of Rob. It's a shame that Lady Gaga is so overhyped and so "look at my stylized eccentricity", because she legitimately has a good voice. And ok, I dig the spontaneous blood. The VMAs need more bloodshed. Good on ya, Gaga.
However, her costume changes are going to give me nightmares. Goddamn.

And also getting the "That's Enough" award, Megan Fucking Fox. You're hot, we know. Please stand in a corner and be hot and STFU.

I am also super-excited for the "New Moon" Twilight-thing preview trailer whatever-the-fuck it is. But not for the same reason the kids are.

OK, I laughed so hard at "New Moon" that I think I twisted a Fallopian tube. COME ON, girls. I know my taste in men/love is slightly untraditional, but I really don't understand how this is some epic love story, and not some laughable hot mess of a movie with the worst actors ever to grace the screen. I'll watch it the same way I did "Twilight" - with Rifftrax.

Kanye gets mentioned in a list of nominees and everyone starts booing. Sweet schadenfreude.

Gerard Butler is getting all King Leonidas on the crowd. I'm into it, and I want to drink with him. He seems like he'd be a rad drinking buddy.

Tracy Morgan is my hero. Fuck you.

As I'm discussing on Twitter, Tyson Ritter from the All American Rejects is not only stunningly beautiful, but also completely humble and down-to-earth and lovely. I met him once, under some horrible circumstances, and he - and his bandmates - were fine, wonderful men. Quality people.

Oh God, Lady Gaga and her evil red demon face-eater costume just won something. I might shit my pants.

I have a no-longer-secret love of Pink. I seriously dig her songs, and will drunkenly sing them in bars. And, you know, "Sober" has a certain message for me. Ahem.

Beyonce bringing Taylor Swift out actually shows some serious class. It is a rare thing, even from celeb to celeb.

Another personal aside: I worked next to Rocafella Records for a while, and they were the most obnoxious fucksticks I have ever had the misfortune to work near. Everyone from Damon Dash down to the interns had a shitty, holier-than-thou yet ghetto-trash attitude and were ruder than shit. EXCEPT Jay-Z. He was a gentleman and always polite and respectful, no matter how important or unimportant you were. A genuinely good guy.

And any song about NYC and how beautiful it is wins my approval. "Empire State of Mind", indeed. Thank you and good night.

Peeves: Part 1 of Fucking Infinity

2009-08-03T13:26:00.005-04:00

Focus - Subway

As a preface, I am guilty of none of these things, which is why I hate on them. Trust me, there will be many more of these entries, since no one has any decency or common sense anymore. Ready? Let’s go.

Eating:
First of all, maybe you should wake up 10 minutes earlier to eat something in your own goddamn house like a civilized human being. You made that ham sandwich somewhere, so instead of eating it there, you decided to pack it up and eat on public transit where bums piss. Idiot.
Second, how are you okay with stuffing your face in front of a mass of strangers? I know I’ve got some pretty severe food issues (I’m uncomfortable eating in front of anyone I don’t know very well, and I usually won’t eat in front of strangers at all), but what the hell are you doing? No one wants to watch you smear your ugly mug with cream cheese at 8AM.
Third, why is it that every asshole who insists on eating during the train ride chews with her mouth wide open? You are a disgusting uncouth piece of shit whose parents should have beat that habit out of you. With a tire iron, if necessary.

Makeup:
You, too, need to wake up 10 minutes earlier to slather that shit on your face. The train is not place to start busting out liquid fucking foundation and an eyeshadow quad. Also, I’m noticing most of you have no idea how to apply any of it. You’re wasting your money, because 98% of you bitches are doing a terrible job. And that spray tan you’re rocking that you think makes you look “healthy” and “sexy”? Wrong. You look fucking old. Skank.

Not Your Couch:
Take your fucking feet off the seats. The other day, I’m on the train, sitting like a fucking lady for God’s sake because I was raised correctly, and I see this whale of a human being plop down into a seat, put her shopping bag on another seat, and then swing her bulk around and put her feet up on the seat next to her. She is now lounging across two seats while taking up another seat with a bag. At 6PM on a Friday. You fat cunt, the train is not your couch where you get to hang out and get comfortable, and certainly not at the expense of taking up seats that other people could be sitting in. Lazy douchebags. That goes for you skinny bitches putting your dirty flip-flop-clad hooves on the seats, too. Put your feet on the goddamned floor where they belong.

STFU:
Practice volume control. I wear noise-canceling headphones and if I can still hear you talking from 20 feet away? You’re too loud. The person you’re speaking to is sitting 8 inches away for fuck’s sake, keep it down.

Can’t you people just get on the train, sit down, and be quiet? Really?

This, and pretty much all the other ills of the world as far as I’m concerned, stem from one thing: unfounded narcissism. I am one of the most selfish bitches anyone will ever meet, but that does not mean I think - or act like - I am the only person in the world. I was raised by the last generation that worked to instill manners and social niceties in its children, and fulfilling your part of the social contract was a big part of that. Say “please” and “thank you”, be polite, and treat people how you want to be treated. JUST BE NICE. I’m not sure when it happened, but people now seem to believe that they are the only ones who have a right to behave any way they goddamn well please. “I can do what I want and you just have to deal with it, but when you do it, you’re a rude asshole”. Being polite and respectful is the price you pay for living in a functioning society. If you don’t like it, take your spoiled, immature, self-absorbed ass into the mountains and see how long you last on your own.

Advice Requested

2009-07-29T13:07:00.002-04:00

How can you tell if you're being paranoid, or if your intuition finally woke the fuck up and is sending out the alarm?

Seriously. Feel free to comment. I'm having some trouble with this one.

Misanthropy Briefs: Danke

2009-07-26T17:18:00.003-04:00

People of Earth:

I'd like to thank you for continually validating the absolute worst things I believe about myself. It teaches me to never hope that I could be proved wrong, that maybe I'm not a monster. How naïve of me. I appreciate you setting me straight.

Also? Fuck you.

More Adventures in Troubleshooting

2009-07-06T16:05:00.002-04:00

Today, with some help from a coworker, I finally got around to unraveling the mystery of a trouble sheet that came in last week. No major issue, just slightly weird. I email the person who reported the problem and gave her the details on why it wasn’t really a problem – i.e. yeah, we know, it’s inconvenient, but there's nothing we can do about it, and here’s why it shows up this way.

She then proceeds to come down to my floor and look for me to tell me that I must be wrong, there’s no way that there’s not a problem. Luckily, my coworker intercepted her and fetched up some technicians to explain to this stupid cow why I was right.

Allow me to dispense some Totally Amazing Advice: If you’re going to ask for help correcting a problem you have no goddamned knowledge of or experience with, don’t tell the people who know how to fix it that they’re wrong.

Seriously, lady? Fuck you. Just because I gave you an answer you don’t like doesn’t mean it’s not the answer. I’m not a mouth-breathing customer service rep over here. I’m a tech specialist who consulted with electrical engineers on your issue (you know, just in case it was legitimate), and you’re gonna tell us we’re wrong because you don’t like what we tell you? Your skill is typing, and you know better than me? No. No, you don’t, and actually, I’d wager there is precious little in this fucking life you know better than me, unless it’s how to be a fucking retard, because you’ve pretty much got that whole area wrapped up. And good luck getting your tech problems handled in the future, because God knows if there’s anything we fancy-pants tech folks like, it’s a glorified stenographer who questions our knowledge about data collection. Can you fuckin' dig it?

Rock On, America.

2009-07-04T12:37:00.008-04:00

Dear America -

Thanks for being pretty awesome. I mean, not really, but compared to most of the other countries on the planet, you're a righteous dude. It is my understanding that in other places, chicks get stoned for being uppity bitches, which is strange, since that's the exact same way I make most of my friends. Those broads should definitely come here, because we love that shit.

Also, thanks for welcoming my drunken ancestors. They left lands of much booze (Ireland and Germany) to come here and have different booze. And fall into lives of crime, but that's neither here nor there. Besides, we all liked New York enough to stay, and eventually achieved the American Dream - the generations transitioning from Drunken Unemployable Micks to Drunken Fancy-Pants College Graduates (sure, it took like 100 years, but all that boozing slows us down).

Anyway, dude, thanks for sucking way less than all the other places I could live. I could really do without the disgusting Walmart-topia that is the entire middle section of the country, but I don't live there, so fuck 'em.

Here's to you, USA! I salute you with tall boys from the bodega and an obvious fear of the sun.

Misanthropy Briefs: STFU, self.

2009-07-02T11:59:00.001-04:00

You ever have one of those moments/hours/days when you think, “Wow. Maybe I should just shut the fuck up for once”? I’ve been having those a lot lately.

You know, the urge to delete your Facebook, your Twitter, and your stupid fucking blog that no one reads. I babble on endlessly and stupidly in the online arena, and really? Not a single fucking person cares. I offer no insight, I’m not charming or witty, and I spew vitriol everywhere (which, by the way, I sense makes me quite attractive to the men out there – which is a rant for another day). What the hell am I doing?

I fear I’m becoming one of those people who you’d like to walk up to, tap them gently on the shoulder, and say, “Stop. Fucking. Talking. No one gives a shit.” I mean, Christ, I’m even annoying myself lately with my desperate need for attention, so I can’t even imagine how annoyed everyone else is with me.

Come on – you didn’t really think my misanthropy wasn’t turned inward, too. As much as I hate you, I hate me more.

Sad and Nostalgic: You've Been Warned

2009-06-26T11:26:00.003-04:00

Like I’m sure so many people did this morning, I listened to “Thriller” on the way to work. I haven’t listened to that album in its entirety in years. It’s fantastic, really, and holds up far better than I thought it would.

Before I get too into this, let me just say: my public persona is decidedly unsentimental and insensitive. I cracked jokes about Jackson’s death and laughed when other people did so yesterday (and likely will for weeks to come). He was amazing, and a peerless entertainer, but was completely fucked up and pretty goddamn scary. Besides, there is not much in this world I can’t laugh at. You laugh, or you go insane. That being said, I don't get maudlin very often, so feel free to skip this one if you want to always think of me as a hard-ass bitch.

Anyway, while listening to “Thriller” this morning, memories started flooding back, ones I didn’t even realize were buried in the archives. Sitting on my brother’s bed in our shared bedroom, listening to “Thriller” fucking endlessly on a portable cassette player with tinny, muffled speakers. Begging my mother to rent the “Thriller” video on VHS and then being scared shitless by it. Watching “Beat It” about a thousand damn times at a friend’s house until we got the choreography down. Trying to moonwalk at another friend’s house across her living room floor in our socks. I was only six when it aired, but to this day, my father says that Jackson’s moonwalk on the Motown TV special was one of the most spectacular things he’s ever seen. I even remember when music videos were so important that they would show his new ones during prime-time network TV (after “The Simpsons”, say). You’d talk about it the next day at school, whether you were seven or seventeen, because you still frigging cared – on some level – what this dude did.

So, remembering all this weird, archaic, pleasant stuff from my childhood, I actually started to tear up. Not for Michael Jackson, of course, but for myself. When the symbols and icons of your youth die, it’s like shutting the door to a room you wish you could go back into. When the people you grew up with – personally or culturally – stop existing, it seems like your childhood gets another step further away. Without those touchstones to spur memories, your early years seem more like something you saw on TV or read in a book or imagined, and less like something you actually lived. An easier, more innocent time is long past, time marches relentlessly on, and life only gets fucking harder and harder.

This is far, far less eloquent than I would like it to be, but it’s hard to put into words. It’s not the loss of Michael Jackson that has me so upset. He was one of the overarching symbols of what was probably the best part of my life. And it’s the loss of that which has me a bit inconsolable this morning.

Everyone Is a Goddamned Idiot

2009-06-16T14:32:00.003-04:00

So, let me tell you a little bit about what I do for a living, while still being incredibly vague (and perhaps lying about some of it to throw you off). One of the many components of my ridiculous job is troubleshooting technical problems. This includes computer software, hardware, outside/inside wiring, compatibility with outside equipment/technology, etc. Sounds like a pain in the ass, right? Right.

But for every “normal” problem – meaning something legitimately wrong wherein the technology at any level is not working properly – there are five “I’m a fucking moron” problems. The issue I just checked into, for example. Someone in another (non-tech) area submits a problem sheet indicating no data collection in the past five days. This happens on a semi-regular basis, so I’m used to delving into it and seeing what the problem is and then getting annoyed about it because all of the equipment here is a piece of shit. So I log in and look around at the stuff he/she’s looking for. LO AND FUCKING BEHOLD, there is a constant stream of data coming in. Not sporadic. Not occasional. Not “I could see how you’d think there was something wrong”. Constant and unmistakable.

So, then I get to call this jackass and be like, “Hey, this is Drunken Misanthrope from Such-and-Such and your data collection is working fine”, when I really want to say, “Hey, asshole, I’m glad I took 20 minutes out of my lunch hour to troubleshoot this shit for you because you’re too dumb to look at dates and times on the computer screen you’re staring at.”

I worked in tech support in college, and I swore I’d never do it again. Ten years later, I was back at it (in a supposedly high-level, tech-heavy area) and everyone is just as fucking retarded as they were back then. At least this time, the majority of my clients are off-site, so there’s less danger of me beating them to death with a chair.

The Player Hater's Ball

2009-06-14T18:57:00.005-04:00

So, as a sort of intro/let’s-just-get-this-out-of-the-way thing:

Things I Love:
Alcohol, up to and including malt liquor. Puppies and all other animals, except maybe goats. Sleep. Music (all sorts – Skinny Puppy to Pavarotti). Horse racing. Geeky, arty boys. Tasteless comedy. Tasteless horror. Educated people, and that doesn’t necessarily mean a “formal” education. Laughing. Nighttime. The color black.

Things I Hate:
Hangovers. Humanity, children in particular. People who are really fucking impressed with themselves. Geeky, arty boys who don’t love me back. Cutesy sluts (i.e. 95% of females age 12-50). People who are downright proud of their own ignorance. People who take the nerd thing waaaaay too far. Hot weather. The goddamned sun. The color yellow.

Things I Am:
Relentlessly, stupidly, senselessly loyal and generous to the few people I like. Smarter than most, in that 99th percentile sort of way. Maker of poor decisions, regardless of IQ. Functional alcoholic. Atheist. Occasionally funny. Fortified with titanium. Obnoxious. Profane. Wildly jealous. Insecure. Arrogant. Hopelessly romantic, to my great chagrin. Compensating for an inferiority complex by having narcissistic personality disorder. Self-aggrandizing. Self-loathing.

Things I Am Not:
Trusting. Politically correct. Spontaneous. Empathetic. Beautiful. Overtly sexual. Above petty cruelty. Careless. A mean, bitchy drunk. Concerned about the opinions of others, even the people I care about. Light-hearted. Cute. Afraid of being disliked/hated/“the asshole”, which will become readily apparent.

It is what it is, and I am what I am, and I apologize for none of it. Enjoy the ride.