|the eternal struggle
||[Mar. 6th, 2009|11:50 am]
Spinning 45 Ballerina
|||||all shuck up||]|
|||||lady gaga-poker face||]|
I had one more of those earth shattering experiences last night. the one where someone really has a go at you, and maybe I was kinda asking for it.
no one stud up for me, not even my best friend, even when he shouted at me to shut up and was being very unreasonable. I hate girls, and anyone pretending to keep the peace.
the kerfuffle started when this guy was telling us how had learned so much from his girlfriend over the passed few years, it was horrible. so incredibly sexist and he doesn't even have a clue that's what he is. he started talking about how his girl is very cultured. she's from an artistic family and knows about the theater(prob true, I'm sure she's great, doesn't make him any less of dick though). so he was really spinning the yarn, setting the scene to let us know about her talent for sharp analysis. "what play?!" I urged him, (so that we to may suck at the teat of wisdom). then he went "Les Miserable", seemingly with no Irony what so ever. so guess my laughter at this might have sounded a little bit, oh I don't know, "crazed witch at the edge of black forest"?
he didn't like that to much, he actually blew up in my face saying a lot of unpleasant stuff about me, the one that stuck though was that I liked to piss on people. I'm so fucking tiered of being told I'm a bad person. I'm not. (but all laughter holds a grain of cruelty, and I do love my giggles.)
I must admit he really gets under my skin. he never get's any jokes and he tells the most frightfully dull stories with no point, plot or sense. no, I'm not saying I'm ever very nice to him, but I at least thought I was holding up the guise of not detesting him. he's like some Bronte/Austen country parson character, a dullard, stick in the mud and general kill joy. (could be cruel head of family or suitable suitor.)
oh I knew I shouldn't have vent for it, but even now I'm just dying to know what insight this belle enfant had into that big girls blouse of theater; Les Mis. So I pushed him a little bit. "oh go on, what did she think? I'll behave". (aaaawr, I'm sure it's hilarious.) I did the smile, disarming myself but he wasn't having it, and shouted at me to shut up. I held out a little bit but soon shouted back at him. I wish I could shout at him now, I wish my friends would stand up for me like his did for him. I wanted to pummel them into the ground.
well I'm done with it now (and the lot of them). sufficient to say I've already modeled one of my villains on him in the passed, and more to come.
oh alien space mothers take me back to my planet! I grow tiered of these earthlings, all of them uncultured savages with no natural instinct to help them differentiate between kitsch and high bow, guilty pleasure and legit pastime, good and bad...