Archive for stupid boys

If You Like It, then You Shouldn’t Put a Post-It On It

Posted in are you joking me? with tags , , , , , , , , on May 18, 2009 by thedith

Text messaging, Twitter, Facebook, gchat, etc… have all made it really easy for us to communicate with one another without actually having to talk to one another.  On the one hand, that’s great; there’s nothing worse than an awkward phone conversation.  There are maybe 5 people in the world with whom I can have a non-so…uh… peppered telephone conversation.  On the other hand, what happens when a person gets so used to texting/tweeting/facebook messaging, that they’re entirely unable to verbally communicate with others? I’ll tell you what happens: Assholitus (also known as Passive Aggressive Bitch Syndrome, PABS)

Assholitus is entirely what it sounds like: being an ass hole.  And, guess what? If you use a non-verbal form of communication to tell me something that would probably be more effectively said to my face, you’re probably an asshole.  Definitely a passive-agressive bitch. Entirely inappropriate.

For example, let’s say you want to remind your roomates to lock the deadbolt on the door when they leave the apartment.  How should you deal with this?

Appropriate answer: take your roomates aside, and remind them in person to lock the door.

Inappropriate answer: leaving identical post-it notes on their doors that say

“Hey – when you leave the apartment the deadbolt MUST [underlined three times] be locked at all times!”

Take it from me, people don’t like being told to do something via post-it note.  No, really, they don’t.

Or, let’s say you’re dating someone who doesn’t even like you.  You like them, but you want to beat them to the chase and dump them before they dump you.  What do you do?

Appropriate answer: When the object of your unrequited affection tells you that she’s not going over to your place at 11 o’clock at night because she’s tired (hey, it’s been a long fucking day!) put an end to the shennanigans right there.

Inappropriate answer: Dump them via text message.

Oh, really? Are we really breaking up with people via text message these days?  The primary function of the phone is for calling people and talking to them…doesn’t that sound like a better way of using it to break up with someone?

Moral of the story: just because non-verbal communication is fast and easy, that doesn’t mean it’s appropriate in every situation. Don’t be a pussy, use your words.

Buckle Your Seatbelts, It’s a Doozy

Posted in Weekend Wars with tags , , on April 6, 2009 by thedith

Sooo Here’s how it happened

This weekend was a good weekend: my money stealing roomate was out of town.  If you’re new to the whole Roomie Madoff saga, I’ll enlighten you in another post, but for now, just know that she’s ripping me off — and I’m not happy about it.  Feeling in a festive mood because we’d have the apartment to ourselves, The Good Roomate really wanted to have a tropical cocktails party. Unfortunately, someone had stolen her phone 2 weekends ago, so she only has like 5 phone numbers in her phone: some High School friends and an Indian Hipsterboy who she’s on the fence about,  and some  30-something- year-old Brazillian businessman who she’s desperately avoiding.

“Should I invite our neighbors upstairs?” Good Roomate mused aloud.  Feeling social, I replied yes.  I had never met one of our upstairs neighbors, an elusive dude whom I had never seen, but often heard.  You see, he’s a “professional musician” i.e. he’s unemployed and spends his time playing the guitar and singing all the Beatles songs found on the “I Am Sam” soundtrack.  Earlier in the week, Good Roomate, née Caitlin, expressed the desire for one of us to hook up with our wannabe Clapton, because “it’d be really funny.” A statement  I  had to agree with.

Our neighbors weren’t home, so Caitlin left a post-it note on their door to come hang out with us. Despite calling Slumdog Hipster, our only guests were Caitlin’s friend Ferrah*, and her  boyfriend, Gavin*. At one point, Ferrah started to feel tired.
“Want some of my ADHD medicine?” Caitlin asked, pouring more champagne into her grapefruit juice cocktail.
“Uh, sure, why not.” Ferrah shrugged her shoulders. Caitlin came back with a little pink pill.
“What is this?” Ferrah asked.
“Dexatrine. It’s an amphetamine.”
“Ohhh no! The last time you gave me one of these I was up for like 2 days!” Ferrah pushed the pill back across the table.
“That’s because that was a slow release one. This is a fast-release one. it releases all the amphetamine at once so it only lasts for like, 4-6 hours.   Don’t take the whole thing — here, split it with Meredith.” Caitlin broke the pill in half, and that’s how I ended up accidentally on an “amphetamine” last night — but half of one, so it doesn’t even count.
“Here, Gavin, take one too. I hate ADHD meds, I’m trying to get rid of them.” Caitlin gave The Boyfriend a pill too.
“Can you snort it?” He asked.
“Uh, I guess…” Caitlin laughed. We all laughed. We thought he was joking. He was not. He snorted the ADHD medicine off of a kitchen cutting board. This didn’t go over too well with his girlfriend. Then Good Roomate and I felt kind of guilty.   But, what’s snorted is snorted, and we poured ourselves some more champagne, and all was right in the world once again.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. it was upstairs neighbor. He introduced himself as having some name other than Eric Clapton, but I quickly forgot it. He was not cute. And yet — and yet, I still thought one of us should hook up with him. Why not me? Yes I can! I thought. Maybe Good Roomate did too, maybe she didn’t.  But in my head, we were in silent competition for like, a good 3/3-and-a-half minutes.   But then, as we were walking down the street, Caitlin randomly saw her ex boyfriend walking down the street with a swarm of Fratboys — faded somewhat from their college glory years, but damnit if they didn’t think they were dressed like kings (poped polo shirt collars, topsiders, tucked in shirts…)! Oh man, it was awful.*
[*I told this story to Mel  over gchat today, and at this spot in the story, she replied, Melanie: girls got needs]

Sooo Caitlin beelines towards the Brooks Brothers, jumps in a cab with Prepdog Millionaire and his friends, and is like “meet us at Toooooniiiicccc” as the cab pulls away.
Me, Ferrah and her boyfriend, and Clapton did NOT want to go to Tonic, so we just kind of watched the cab pull away, shrugged our shoulders, and walked down the street to another bar.   At this point, I’m kind of grumbly because now I’m STUCK with the neighbor, and realize he’s sooooooo boooooring. Like, SO BORING. HELLA boring. At one point, he told me that he’s part Indonesian, part Chinese — and that was the most interesting thing about him. (“How about you? what are you?” he asked. “Uh..” I responded. “You’ve got some Native American in you, I can tell. That’s cool, I can dig that.”)And I start to realize, there are like a million and 1 other DTD reject guys who i could totally make out with, if only I had better thought through my schemes! But alas, I was trapped. So then I just looked forlornly into the Blue Moon Clapton bought for me.  Then, Ferrah starts falling asleep in the bar, despite the “amphetamine”  we took earlier.  Meanwhile, her  boyfriend is like, SO psyched on life after snorting the same amphetamine . And me? I’m just bored.

So we all leave, and I decide “fuck it, I’ve come this far, might as well hook up with the neighbor,” and I’m pulling all the best seduction moves:  leg touches, eye contact, compliments, charm, wit*, laughter — you name it, I tried it.
[*Melanie: hahaha wit]

But Clapton’s stuck in his hippy reverie (he’s like, high-Matthew-MccCaughnehey-playing-the-bongos-naked hippy, okay?) and we even go up to the rooftop, and he literally just wants to talk about how he does yoga and looks at the stars. and I have to hear about surfing, and skateboarding, and guitar playing, and everything being “hella chill”. and then I realize, not only is he really boring, he just sucks! In fact I kind of hate him. He’s all kinds of Norcal awful. He’d say stuff and I’d literally roll my eyes. I wanted to be like, ‘shut up, just DO me!’ except he’s wasn’t even attractive, and hello? I meant metaphorically.  Sheesh, who do you think I am? Once the novelty of hooking up with the neighbor wore off, I realized ‘hella’ is not even a real word, and he does yoga on the rooftop while “absorbing good vibes” from the neighborhood children at school? At this point, I said I hate children (sooort of joking of course) and he got offended and that’s when I realized: I really DO hate him. he’s not funny. He’s boring. He’s not cute, He’s not even a good guitar player. But I AM going to make him teach me how to skateboard this week. Seriously, though. I hate him. He’s boring.

*Sometimes I change names until I get the o.k. otherwise