So since I have some time on my hands...being fitfully unemployed-I thought I might as well fill some space with writing. I have so much in my head lately, and believe it or not...it has been creative. Creativity LOVES misery, what can I say?
But before I start putting my creative vein of editorial work here...I need a bitchfest...ok...for the cleaner readers-I need a vent.
And, since this is my blog, I am going to do it...like it or not.
First off:
Self important weenies AKA douchebags who believe they are cool...but really-not cool.
Remember the fat kid in high school (I was the female equivalent of this, so I can say it) Anyway...remember the unpopular, acne-ridden, fat kid in high school? I am not stereotyping him by saying he was a nerd...nerds are smart and wildly successful in this day and age: example- Um...hello-Bill Gates, anyone?
No...not the nerd. I'm talking about the social pariah that wasn't particularly good at anything, including grades, or band, or speech team, audio-visual crew or well...anything. This kid mostly just kept to himself, talked to himself, tried desperately not to let anyone watch him eat his boogers in class by pretending he had "chapped lips" and got beat up a lot.
That kid.
You know him right?
And you could literally envision the after school special of his life being labeled: "Why don't the other kids like me, mommy????"
So, while said kid was being ruthlessly made fun of and beaten on he is swearing under his breath with every wallop: "I will be cool, hot and popular one day...I will have things you won't...I will drive the coolest car, I will be good looking, acne-free and fit- and I will seek revenge on anyone who threatens me in any way...I will be cool...I swear on my World of Warcraft wizard-you ALL will rue the day!!!!"
This is someone I know...who will remain nameless (for now)
A guy who was fat, unattractive and highly unpopular in adolescence-but with wealthy parents. His teen angst never led him to think that he had the means of mommy and daddy to fix his issues IN high school. He also lacked the confidence in his younger days to self-actualize his dream.
SO...mommy and daddy send him off to college, and he starts to bloom (better late than never-that's debatable)
He loses some weight working out...he gets some extra strength Clearasil, or trip to the dermatologist on mom and dads dime, and buys some updated clothes (courtesy of his newest subscription to GQ)
He begs mommy and daddy for a new car...a BMW-no less and adds some product (wait...not some...way too much) to his spiked hair.
This is also the time that women start noticing him...and he starts to feel like his envisioned "cool" self from the harrowing days of high school.
He graduates college.
Now, this is the point that one would assume the young man grows up a bit and let's bygones be bygones and chalks the abuse of his younger days up to a maturity issue-and moves on with his life.
Notice my italics in the word assume above. Yeah. One would assume.
When you do this...as the cliche goes...you make an ASS out of U and ME.
That's what you get for thinking-shame on you.
Semi-popular...and now not really all THAT good looking, gelled hair, BMW driving, clear skinned, college graduate finds a trophy wife, and gets married.
Marriage falls apart of course...due to his deep-seeded insecurities and his pathetic attempts at being a "lady killer" and of course...kids never happen.
His career becomes his "top-line goal" now...and he becomes an even greater beastie of pathetic insecurity and works his way into a management position.
His new name:
Manager Douchebag.
Manager douchebag comes into a job full of big promises (much like a politician...but never follows through)
DB (as we will now call him due to lazy bloggers non-willingness to retype his full name every time) sits in his high backed pleather chair in his cubicle...with his crown sliding off of his grease-slicked hair, and his super scepter spreadsheet-complete with dazzling pivot-tables and pretends to be the king of his world.
DB spends extra time at his desk surfing how-to websites on "picking up hot single chicks" and how to "be extra-cool" instead of working.
DB also asks his subordinates to do his job for him daily-mostly because he does not know the job himself, and then berates said subordinates when his job isn't done right.
DB LIES.
DB LIES TO EVERYONE...citing daily that he is "transparent" and "ethical" Standing in front of his judges claiming "integrity" and "knowledge"
Meanwhile...his peons AKA his "team" are whipped ruthlessly and told they are not worthy of Manager DB's kind leadership and one by one said peons begin to disappear.
Finger pointing at it's finest for jobs and goals unaccomplished, no doubt.
Manager DB does not like it when his peons speak up and put family before the job.
And single moms?
They are the lowest of the low...spending much of their time in the dungeon- being told to "do more" with their unattainable goals, and being targeted by company snipers at ALL times.
DB smugly smiles from his self-proclaimed throne (pleather chair) in his dungeon (cubicle), playing with his "pivot tables" and driving his false extension of manhood that sits in the parking lot-parked sideways to avoid messing up his paint job.
Here is something that DB doesn't know himself, though.
His days are numbered...someone is on to him and his false knowledge and his mistreatment of his peons.
And soon he and his repossessed BMW, and gelled hair will be standing on the unemployment line with the rest of the single moms he mistreated and LIED to.
Instead of growing up and learning from his mistreatment in high school...he went the other way.
Much like Darth Vader he went to the dark side and, he will eventually own his karma...and his empire will fall.
And me?
I will not laugh, or make fun, or berate. I have gotten that all out of my system here.
No, I will only pity him for the horrible human being he is...and hope that one day I will receive an apology.
Doubtful, I know. Douchebags...whether nature or nurture rarely learn their life lessons.
That's precisely why thet are labeled-Douchebags.
And, when I see the guy at the mall with the Abercrombie shirt and the American Eagle sun visor turned backwards atop his gelled hair, popped collar, and ripped knee Lucky jeans...I will not comment. I will only remember Manager DB and hope that one day he comes out of the closet.
There...vent one done.
Ok...vent two.
Remember the girls in high school who discovered tanning beds?
Yeah...the girls who swore by the mystical light under the plastic dome-DAILY.
Worshippers of the sun god to the extreme?
Flash forward to the same girls...now 40-50-something women...who STILL spend hours out of their week under plastic UV love?
I know someone like this...who will remain nameless-for now.
Said women...we will call her Raisinette Tammy Faye or (RTF) for anonymity purposes.
I have no background on RTF...so I can't say if she was pathetic like DB in high school, factually.
Let's just say I have an idea of her...and will say it with great cruelty here.
Overtanning is one of my BIGGEST pet peeves.
Jersey Shore is NOT a lifestyle, it is a television show, people...get a grip.
Overweight, aging women tend to overcompensate much like DB above because of a need to feel young again. This is my theory.
RTF on the other hand believes herself to be a cougar, when really more like a gorilla in the animal world.
Only instead of fur...she has dark brown skin dyed by the tanning bed.
Said gorilla is threatened by other females and behaves rather rudely to them...snubbing and sneering at them at all times. Threatened, no doubt.
Said RTF gorilla also pisses on her territory at will.
RTF is a typical wanna be.
Wanna be thin. Wanna be pretty. Wanna be young. Wanna be TAN.
So, what RTF does to make her wanna-be dreams come true are listed below:
1. Thin...(well...she MIGHT diet...I'm not sure of this, as I said before, I can't state fact...only deduce in this particular rant) I like to believe in my evil fantasy that she is addicted to Dexatrim or Colon Cleanse...or something of that nature.
2. Pretty...this I can speak to because I have seen her. To be pretty RTF (this is where she gets the end of her name: Tammy Faye...as in Tammy Faye Baker-sorry for those of you not aware of who Tammy Faye is...look it up)
Anyway...RTF slaps on the makeup with a putty knife, lines her eyes with the heroin-chic vibe and does not blend the foundation in...creating a line of makeup along her jaw line making her resemble a tragedy mask right out of Shakespeare. The cherry on the sundae is the bright lipstick...red usually...much like Homey The Clown or BOZO. Not using liner to hold it into the crags on her lips. As she smiles (which she rarely does...we will call this a sneer) Her teeth are more red than her lips...looking much like a crackhead with Kool-Aid. That or a woman who took too many Quaaludes and doesn't own a mirror.
3. Young...RTF dresses inappropriately for her age. She wears plunging necklines to, I would assume show off her udders. Her bra is not supportive and she tends to...erm....sag a bit.
Skirts too short for her unappealing legs ridden with varicose veins, and no supportive panties to hold in her flabby gut. She walks like a drag-queen in heels that are too tall for her height and clomps around like a broodmare horse. To look younger, thinner, and prettier...RTF also does the last on the list...see below.
4. Tan...I really can't say enough here. I mean...I really, really cannot.
The makeup mixed with the tanning is just tragic.
I have to assume (I know...I know...I'm an ass) But I HAVE to assume that she believes that spending hours in the tanning bed looking like a shriveled raisin makes her look younger, prettier, thinner.
But...honey? Seriously...
That is about as ridiculous as the reason I started smoking cigarettes...
Because someone told me that it would keep me thin and curb my appetite.
All smoking did was curb my paycheck, my white teeth and my class-level.
At 45-50ish how do you not know that UV rays cause CANCER...and UV rays wrinkle your skin WORSE.
Now, while I would like to be even more cruel here...I won't. I will stop now...karma is probably going to hurt me a little here. But, damnit...it HAD to be said.
Ok, ok...one last thing.
RTF: You are NOT pretty. You are definitely NOT young. And you are not as attractive as I am...that includes being fat. I am thinner. HA.
Yep...I feel better now. Sorta.
So...now that I have THAT all off my chest, I can move on to more creative and perhaps editorial ventures tomorrow.
Whew...spite is exhausting.
Last thought-
"Go on and cry in your coffee, but don't come bitching to me.”
-Billy Joel
Kissing karma-
Jaded
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