TGIF

Contrary to what my co-worker says about it not being possible to wake up on the wrong side of the bed because "wherever God touches you to wake up is the right place," (what-the-fuck-ever) I woke up on the wrong side, fo shizzle. So ... I'm in a bitter mood. Shit happens. Just ask Dubya.

Here are some things that drive me fucking crazy.

• When people prostitute themselves in an attempt to garner compliments. If your ego is so fragile that you can only feel better by saying "I'm ugly," only to have me (or whomever) say "Oh honey, no you're not," well ... guess what? You probably are. I'm usually just trying to be nice -- and so are most of the other people you bother with the same petty bullshit. But I've got my own bullshit to deal with, so take your poor body image and your poor self esteem and go to a psych clinic. Leave me the fuck alone.
• I hate people who think their destinations are infinitely more important than anyone else's, so they'll drive like madmen and give everyone in their way all kinds of shade just to stay our of their way. You know what? In the morning, most people have places to be. Your particular path is no more important than anyone else's. So slow the fuck down and stop glaring at me, you ignorant fuck, or I'll pluck your eyes out and feed them to the abundance of sparrows in the city. Let's see how fast you can drive your car without eyes.
• If one more person tells me "You have such a nice face," and then proceeds to look my plus-sized body up and down and make a half grimace, I'll end up in jail for assault. We all have different bodies. We all have different bodies to which we're attracted. I'm lucky enough to have someone who doesn't mind my extra insulation - who even finds it beautiful. (Which, I'm proud to say, it totally is.) And yes, I would feel better if I managed to lose a bit of weight, and yes, I'm working toward that goal ... but the last thing I need is Malibu Barbie and Earring Magic Ken telling me how inferior I am because I had the audacity to have seconds at the buffet. Fuck you and your bony asses. Eat a bagel with real butter and throw your Trader Joe's Protein Shake in the trash. You'll feel better with a little sugar coursing through your bile-encrusted veins.
• Gay men who go out of their way to say they're "masculine," but fail to notice the faux Prada purses that fly out of their mouths when they speak -- listen to me: There's nothing wrong with being who you are. Acting in what society deems is a "masculine manner" doesn't make you any more of a man than the so-called swishy queen who walks his featherweight dog on a rhinestone-laced leash. You both have penises. You're both men. You're just different types of men. So take your so-called "masculine energy" and devote it to broadening your knowledge bases, you arrogant pricks. How masculine are you when some other man has his cock up your ass? I'm betting the swishy boy winces less. Where's your masculinity, now, Moses?
• And all you online princesses with "versatile" or "top" in your profile? How about posting more than pics of your scraggly faces and saggy asses? And bottoms? I have no desire to see pictures of your penises. If you're advertising as a bottom, show me your ass, for Christ's sake. And if you really, honest-to-God, are not looking to hook up -- take the naked pictures out of your fucking profile. Common sense? Ya think?!? Dumb asses.

Okay, okay. Enough. I need to have more coffee and shut my own damn mouth. :-)