Fasten your seatbelts, because this is one long rant. In fact, I recommend you don't read this at all unless you have nothing better to do for the next twenty minutes.
I haven't vomited about this particular subject until now, because with my luck the people I'm about verbally tongue-lash will stumble across my blog, and then.... awwwk-waaaard! However, I need to vent.
To begin the story, my friends (I use that term in the loosest context), whom we'll call Harry and Sally, happen to be the most irritatingly pretentious people I have ever come across. I feel guilty for disliking them as much as I do, because they are actually nice people and they mean well. They are just unbelievably annoying, that's all. The most annoying part? They don't realize they're annoying.
Harry is in his early twenties ~ a self-important, pompous, holier-than-thou type person with a nasal Southern twang who honestly believes that because he got married and inherited a few stepkids, somehow he automatically became a card-carrying member of the 'responsible-adult-and-experienced-parent' club. He feels entitled to special privileges, favors, exemptions, etc. simply because he has a wife and kid. "I'm married, I shouldn't have to stay late."
He is always making disparaging comments about people he deems "shitbags"; but he jumps at every possible chance to avoid working. He might be one of the laziest people I know. What is so infuriating about his particular brand of laziness is that he pretends he's not a lazy person; and his good 'reasons' always involve blaming his family. "I need to be excused from PT today, the boy has parent-teacher conferences."
He's that guy who hears a story and feels compelled to tell a bigger and better story. He only works hard when someone is watching, and his nose is perpetually covered in poo. Harry is a born follower who tries to give off the appearance of being a born leader. The guy can't come up with an original thought to save his life, but loves to tell others what they're supposed to think. He keeps playing this unspoken game of "keeping up with the Joneses" with us, even though I confronted him on the subject once and he denied it profusely.
And then there's Sally.
She's thirty-ish (cougar, ahem) ~ where to start? The woman is obsessed with her physical appearance. Nothing wrong with trying to look good, right? Wrong. When I say obsessed, I truly mean obsessed. She works out at the gym almost every day, by her account for 2+ hours, and sometimes more than once a day. She should look like She-ra with all the working out she supposedly does, but she looks more like Olive Oyl instead.
When she's not at the gym, she's talking about the gym. Or the people at the gym. Or how this guy or that guy at the gym this morning commented on how she must be in the military since she's "in such good shape, and she's how old?? I don't believe it! I thought you were twenty!" blah-bi-ti-bla-bla-blah. She becomes frantic if she can't work out for a day or two, and insists that she gained eight pounds in those two days and lost all her muscle tone. (The line was crossed, however, when she claimed that someone at the gym mistook her for me. Okay, by no stretch of the imagination could she ever be mistaken for me. I was highly insulted when she said this.)
But I digress.
She takes a friend's prescription pre-natal vitamins because they make her hair grow faster and her nails stronger. She drinks some sort of nasty herbal drink every night to "clean the toxins from her body". Basically the same thing as taking laxatives. She uses cellulite cream for the imaginary dimples on her thighs. She drinks Slim-Fast. She takes Dexatrim. She is allergic to I don't know how many different foods (in my opinion, so she has an excuse to avoid eating whenever she wants to). She self-admittedly used to have an eating disorder (used to?). Lotions, creams, pills, diets, exercise regimes ~ a new one every week, it seems. In spite of all this effort, she looks every day of her age and possibly more. In fact, she looks positively haggard and unhealthy. Hmmm, wonder why?
That's not the most annoying part. She loves to talk about herself and her problems to anyone who will listen, willing or otherwise. And given all the times I've caught her making contradictory statements, I'm now convinced that everything that comes out of her mouth is an over-exaggerated whopper.
According to her, she's cheated Death at least 5 times. Her alcoholic ex-husband abused her constantly (yet for some reason he has custody of her youngest son?). She left him twice. No wait, 3 times. Or was it 4? Her mom beat the crap out of him once. She beat the crap out of him once. Her dad molested her. Her mom killed herself. She just found out that her dad had an affair 30 years ago and she has a half-sister.
She's had all sorts of intestinal problems and numerous operations to fix them (including one where her surgeon accidentally stapled her intestine to itself in a previous operation, which caused her intestines to start pushing out through the healed incision in her stomach? Is that even possible?). She has a bad hip. She had cancer (heard at least three different versions of what kind of cancer it was).
She has multiple female problems (won't tell you what I've had to hear about those *shudder*). She has back problems because one leg is longer than the other. Blah-bi-ti-bla-bla-blah. Harry is always making disgusting jokes about she's broken again, and it must've happened the other night when they were.... (cue the barfing sounds). Anyways, I personally find it impossible to believe that any one person could have this many emotionally traumatic experiences and physical ailments all within one short lifetime. Get real.
You've heard the saying "You can take the girl outta the trailer, but you can't take the trailer outta the girl"? It applies. She is always showing me her new (hideous) Juicy Couture purse, or her new (hideous) Leo diamond necklace. I can't tell you how many stories I've had to endure, listening to her prattle on about how some guy hit on her and how she barely managed to fend him off. Every story always ends with a roll of her eyes and an exaggerated sigh as she says, "It is sooooooo annoying when guys won't leave you alone, isn't it?" Twenty minutes later, I'll make an innocent comment about stopping at Wal-mart, and she'll reply, "Oh yeah, the last time I was there, this guy stopped me and then..." and then I want to put a loaded .45 in my mouth and pull the trigger. I despise married women who act like this, especially when they're old enough to know better.
But I digress again. Harry and Sally are broke as a joke, yet they over-indulge themselves like money grows on trees. She doesn't have any income (unless you count her kids' child support) because Harry "promised me that when he got out of boot camp and we moved, I could stay at home if I wanted to". And I know how much money Harry makes down to the penny, and trust me, it's not much.
If someone at works says to me, "Gee, you and the hubby must make a lot of money between the two of you, since you both work and don't have kids" and he happens to overhear our conversation, he will immediately interject with some comment about, "Well, I told my wife she didn't have to work. I let her stay at home so she can clean my house and do my laundry and cook me dinner every night... it's so great." Seriously? You let her stay at home? Gee, what a swell guy. Oops, I think you forgot your club back at the cave.
Every time we spend a couple hundred bucks on something we've been wanting to buy, a few days later, so do they. Difference is, we spend money on extras because we can afford to; they can't. They insist on putting up this huge facade of well-to-do-ness, but whenever her and I are alone, she complains about how "He spent so much money on this new blankety-blank that we can't afford, and then he had the nerve to get mad at me!" if she buys so much as a toothbrush for herself while she's grocery shopping. (The best story was the one where he had opened another credit card without telling her, and she found out only by pure accident when she happened to open the mail that day. And then he went out that weekend and charged a couple hundred dollars worth of video game stuff on it, also without consulting her.)
Are you annoyed by this blog yet? Yeah, me too, but I can't stop vomiting. Multiply your annoyance by fifty zillion and you'll feel what I feel.
Harry and Sally are a match made in hell. In spite of numerous examples like the credit card incident, she wears the pants in the family; and he is definitely on the tightest leash ever (apparently by choice since he caters to her every whim and desire). If he has ever realized at any point that she is blowing smoke up his ass most of the time, he has never let on. Her bullshit comes out of his mouth, parrot-like, almost every time he opens it.
Now we get to the good part. About a two weeks ago I was out at the smoke pit having a ciggy and he was there. He informed me that they were quitting smoking. I said that was great for them, but I did not ask why. He then went on to tell me that it was because she was going to be having some surgery done. Still I did not ask why. In fact, I told him I didn't need to know why because it was none of my business (actually I didn't ask because I figured it must be nasty else he would've just said why in the first place). In spite of my protests, he then went on to inform me that it was because she was getting her breasts done.
THEN (as if the conversation wasn't uncomfortable enough already) he went on for a good five minutes about how the reason why she needs to have surgery on them is because they're so painful ever since she had children (huh?), and one is bigger than the other so she can never find a bra that fits, and they really hurt her, and the doctor said it's the reason for her back pain, and did I know that if you need to have your boobs re-sized for medical reasons, the Navy pays for it? And the reason she needs to quit smoking? Oh, because getting breast implants increases your risk for cancer.
WOW. At this point my internal monologue began vomiting a million thoughts and reactions simultaneously, something to the effect of: "Oh yuck, oh YUCK, shoot me now! I'm not having this conversation with him, I'm not having this conversation with him. La-la-lah, think of something else... flowers, roses, unicorns, la-la-lah. It's not working! Blech! Ugh! Look at him smirking and thinking he's a genius because he thinks he's gonna get his wife her boobies for free! This is so gross, and I wish he would wipe that disgusting smile off his face, because I can totally tell he's thinking about his wife's boobies right now! Auuuggggh! This chick has been telling me she wants implants since the day I met her, and now she's gonna try to make up some bullshit medical reason for needing them? Seriously?!? And what the hell makes either of them think that even the Navy paid for it, they would give her bigger ones? Especially since they "hurt her" so much?!? This is such a load of bunk. Is he really stupid enough to buy her latest load of crap? Or is he just trying to get me to believe that she really needs boobies for medical reasons? Un-fucking-believable!! He obviously doesn't know that 95% of all women have one breast that is slightly larger than the other. I'm not even gonna go there. And why would anyone in their right mind who's supposedly already had cancer and lived through it do something to increase their risk of getting cancer?? Come to think of it, why does she even smoke in the first place if she's had cancer?? WTF!" Ironically, out of all that, the only response I could manage to choke out past the lump of vomit in my throat was, "Oh, I see. Well that's cool, I guess.".
I have had it up to my eyeballs with them. Their own individual idiocies are magnified tenfold by the fact that each of them seems to feed off the other one's issues. I mean, come on. We all have our little personality flaws and shortcomings, but most of us have someone in our life (such as a spouse or close friend) to tell us when we are being a complete fool, moron, jackass, psycho, selfish prick, or mindless ignoramus. However, Harry and Sally both seem genuinely afraid to confront each other for fear of "rocking the boat".
He will criticize her actions one minute, but if someone agrees with him that she's acting crazy, he'll immediately start defending her. She always starts out sentences with "Don't tell him I said this to you, but..." and then launches into a tirade about how he's getting fat, or he has mommy issues and she's tired of them being projected onto her. It's a vicious cycle that they seem to mutually hate, yet neither one seems all that interested in breaking it.
Forget Harry meeting Sally; I curse the day that I met Harry and Sally. I don't know how much more I can take.
I haven't vomited about this particular subject until now, because with my luck the people I'm about verbally tongue-lash will stumble across my blog, and then.... awwwk-waaaard! However, I need to vent.
To begin the story, my friends (I use that term in the loosest context), whom we'll call Harry and Sally, happen to be the most irritatingly pretentious people I have ever come across. I feel guilty for disliking them as much as I do, because they are actually nice people and they mean well. They are just unbelievably annoying, that's all. The most annoying part? They don't realize they're annoying.
Harry is in his early twenties ~ a self-important, pompous, holier-than-thou type person with a nasal Southern twang who honestly believes that because he got married and inherited a few stepkids, somehow he automatically became a card-carrying member of the 'responsible-adult-and-experienced-parent' club. He feels entitled to special privileges, favors, exemptions, etc. simply because he has a wife and kid. "I'm married, I shouldn't have to stay late."
He is always making disparaging comments about people he deems "shitbags"; but he jumps at every possible chance to avoid working. He might be one of the laziest people I know. What is so infuriating about his particular brand of laziness is that he pretends he's not a lazy person; and his good 'reasons' always involve blaming his family. "I need to be excused from PT today, the boy has parent-teacher conferences."
He's that guy who hears a story and feels compelled to tell a bigger and better story. He only works hard when someone is watching, and his nose is perpetually covered in poo. Harry is a born follower who tries to give off the appearance of being a born leader. The guy can't come up with an original thought to save his life, but loves to tell others what they're supposed to think. He keeps playing this unspoken game of "keeping up with the Joneses" with us, even though I confronted him on the subject once and he denied it profusely.
And then there's Sally.
She's thirty-ish (cougar, ahem) ~ where to start? The woman is obsessed with her physical appearance. Nothing wrong with trying to look good, right? Wrong. When I say obsessed, I truly mean obsessed. She works out at the gym almost every day, by her account for 2+ hours, and sometimes more than once a day. She should look like She-ra with all the working out she supposedly does, but she looks more like Olive Oyl instead.
When she's not at the gym, she's talking about the gym. Or the people at the gym. Or how this guy or that guy at the gym this morning commented on how she must be in the military since she's "in such good shape, and she's how old?? I don't believe it! I thought you were twenty!" blah-bi-ti-bla-bla-blah. She becomes frantic if she can't work out for a day or two, and insists that she gained eight pounds in those two days and lost all her muscle tone. (The line was crossed, however, when she claimed that someone at the gym mistook her for me. Okay, by no stretch of the imagination could she ever be mistaken for me. I was highly insulted when she said this.)
But I digress.
She takes a friend's prescription pre-natal vitamins because they make her hair grow faster and her nails stronger. She drinks some sort of nasty herbal drink every night to "clean the toxins from her body". Basically the same thing as taking laxatives. She uses cellulite cream for the imaginary dimples on her thighs. She drinks Slim-Fast. She takes Dexatrim. She is allergic to I don't know how many different foods (in my opinion, so she has an excuse to avoid eating whenever she wants to). She self-admittedly used to have an eating disorder (used to?). Lotions, creams, pills, diets, exercise regimes ~ a new one every week, it seems. In spite of all this effort, she looks every day of her age and possibly more. In fact, she looks positively haggard and unhealthy. Hmmm, wonder why?
That's not the most annoying part. She loves to talk about herself and her problems to anyone who will listen, willing or otherwise. And given all the times I've caught her making contradictory statements, I'm now convinced that everything that comes out of her mouth is an over-exaggerated whopper.
According to her, she's cheated Death at least 5 times. Her alcoholic ex-husband abused her constantly (yet for some reason he has custody of her youngest son?). She left him twice. No wait, 3 times. Or was it 4? Her mom beat the crap out of him once. She beat the crap out of him once. Her dad molested her. Her mom killed herself. She just found out that her dad had an affair 30 years ago and she has a half-sister.
She's had all sorts of intestinal problems and numerous operations to fix them (including one where her surgeon accidentally stapled her intestine to itself in a previous operation, which caused her intestines to start pushing out through the healed incision in her stomach? Is that even possible?). She has a bad hip. She had cancer (heard at least three different versions of what kind of cancer it was).
She has multiple female problems (won't tell you what I've had to hear about those *shudder*). She has back problems because one leg is longer than the other. Blah-bi-ti-bla-bla-blah. Harry is always making disgusting jokes about she's broken again, and it must've happened the other night when they were.... (cue the barfing sounds). Anyways, I personally find it impossible to believe that any one person could have this many emotionally traumatic experiences and physical ailments all within one short lifetime. Get real.
You've heard the saying "You can take the girl outta the trailer, but you can't take the trailer outta the girl"? It applies. She is always showing me her new (hideous) Juicy Couture purse, or her new (hideous) Leo diamond necklace. I can't tell you how many stories I've had to endure, listening to her prattle on about how some guy hit on her and how she barely managed to fend him off. Every story always ends with a roll of her eyes and an exaggerated sigh as she says, "It is sooooooo annoying when guys won't leave you alone, isn't it?" Twenty minutes later, I'll make an innocent comment about stopping at Wal-mart, and she'll reply, "Oh yeah, the last time I was there, this guy stopped me and then..." and then I want to put a loaded .45 in my mouth and pull the trigger. I despise married women who act like this, especially when they're old enough to know better.
But I digress again. Harry and Sally are broke as a joke, yet they over-indulge themselves like money grows on trees. She doesn't have any income (unless you count her kids' child support) because Harry "promised me that when he got out of boot camp and we moved, I could stay at home if I wanted to". And I know how much money Harry makes down to the penny, and trust me, it's not much.
If someone at works says to me, "Gee, you and the hubby must make a lot of money between the two of you, since you both work and don't have kids" and he happens to overhear our conversation, he will immediately interject with some comment about, "Well, I told my wife she didn't have to work. I let her stay at home so she can clean my house and do my laundry and cook me dinner every night... it's so great." Seriously? You let her stay at home? Gee, what a swell guy. Oops, I think you forgot your club back at the cave.
Every time we spend a couple hundred bucks on something we've been wanting to buy, a few days later, so do they. Difference is, we spend money on extras because we can afford to; they can't. They insist on putting up this huge facade of well-to-do-ness, but whenever her and I are alone, she complains about how "He spent so much money on this new blankety-blank that we can't afford, and then he had the nerve to get mad at me!" if she buys so much as a toothbrush for herself while she's grocery shopping. (The best story was the one where he had opened another credit card without telling her, and she found out only by pure accident when she happened to open the mail that day. And then he went out that weekend and charged a couple hundred dollars worth of video game stuff on it, also without consulting her.)
Are you annoyed by this blog yet? Yeah, me too, but I can't stop vomiting. Multiply your annoyance by fifty zillion and you'll feel what I feel.
Harry and Sally are a match made in hell. In spite of numerous examples like the credit card incident, she wears the pants in the family; and he is definitely on the tightest leash ever (apparently by choice since he caters to her every whim and desire). If he has ever realized at any point that she is blowing smoke up his ass most of the time, he has never let on. Her bullshit comes out of his mouth, parrot-like, almost every time he opens it.
Now we get to the good part. About a two weeks ago I was out at the smoke pit having a ciggy and he was there. He informed me that they were quitting smoking. I said that was great for them, but I did not ask why. He then went on to tell me that it was because she was going to be having some surgery done. Still I did not ask why. In fact, I told him I didn't need to know why because it was none of my business (actually I didn't ask because I figured it must be nasty else he would've just said why in the first place). In spite of my protests, he then went on to inform me that it was because she was getting her breasts done.
THEN (as if the conversation wasn't uncomfortable enough already) he went on for a good five minutes about how the reason why she needs to have surgery on them is because they're so painful ever since she had children (huh?), and one is bigger than the other so she can never find a bra that fits, and they really hurt her, and the doctor said it's the reason for her back pain, and did I know that if you need to have your boobs re-sized for medical reasons, the Navy pays for it? And the reason she needs to quit smoking? Oh, because getting breast implants increases your risk for cancer.
WOW. At this point my internal monologue began vomiting a million thoughts and reactions simultaneously, something to the effect of: "Oh yuck, oh YUCK, shoot me now! I'm not having this conversation with him, I'm not having this conversation with him. La-la-lah, think of something else... flowers, roses, unicorns, la-la-lah. It's not working! Blech! Ugh! Look at him smirking and thinking he's a genius because he thinks he's gonna get his wife her boobies for free! This is so gross, and I wish he would wipe that disgusting smile off his face, because I can totally tell he's thinking about his wife's boobies right now! Auuuggggh! This chick has been telling me she wants implants since the day I met her, and now she's gonna try to make up some bullshit medical reason for needing them? Seriously?!? And what the hell makes either of them think that even the Navy paid for it, they would give her bigger ones? Especially since they "hurt her" so much?!? This is such a load of bunk. Is he really stupid enough to buy her latest load of crap? Or is he just trying to get me to believe that she really needs boobies for medical reasons? Un-fucking-believable!! He obviously doesn't know that 95% of all women have one breast that is slightly larger than the other. I'm not even gonna go there. And why would anyone in their right mind who's supposedly already had cancer and lived through it do something to increase their risk of getting cancer?? Come to think of it, why does she even smoke in the first place if she's had cancer?? WTF!" Ironically, out of all that, the only response I could manage to choke out past the lump of vomit in my throat was, "Oh, I see. Well that's cool, I guess.".
I have had it up to my eyeballs with them. Their own individual idiocies are magnified tenfold by the fact that each of them seems to feed off the other one's issues. I mean, come on. We all have our little personality flaws and shortcomings, but most of us have someone in our life (such as a spouse or close friend) to tell us when we are being a complete fool, moron, jackass, psycho, selfish prick, or mindless ignoramus. However, Harry and Sally both seem genuinely afraid to confront each other for fear of "rocking the boat".
He will criticize her actions one minute, but if someone agrees with him that she's acting crazy, he'll immediately start defending her. She always starts out sentences with "Don't tell him I said this to you, but..." and then launches into a tirade about how he's getting fat, or he has mommy issues and she's tired of them being projected onto her. It's a vicious cycle that they seem to mutually hate, yet neither one seems all that interested in breaking it.
Forget Harry meeting Sally; I curse the day that I met Harry and Sally. I don't know how much more I can take.
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