There are days I really just want to Bale Out on someone. I mean, not just a random person, not just like, in the middle of the grocery store or something. But there are days when people make me so crazy I want to totally go off.
There are people in particular who elicit this reaction more frequently in me than others. Ebook pirates, for example? Fuck you. And if you think downloading a book from a file sharing site doesn’t make you an ebook pirate, again, fuck you.
And then there are…individuals. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could simply erase people from our lives who consistently and without fail find a way to squirt a huge, messy pile of fecal matter onto our days? You probably have someone or more than one, if you’re unlucky, like that. I do. I am blessed with a few forons I just can’t get rid of, and to them, I usually say nothing in the interest of taking the higher road, etc.
I don’t feel like that high road today. Today I feel like pointing a finger and saying “fuck you, you suppurating anal fissure, you pus-encrusted cyst, you infected, gangrenous, oozing, fecal-infested, maggot-ridden piece of offal.” That’s what I feel like saying today.
Not to you. Or you. Or not to you over there in the corner, and certainly not to YOU, either, I mean, really, you’re fabulous.
But to those unnamed pustules, those bile-filled blisters, I say:
what don’t you fucking understand?
