SelfAbsorbed.ME : ‘It’s Your Life, We Just Write it Funnier’

Some people would call me an angry person. Just because I fly off the handle everytime I have to wait in line more than 10 seconds to buy groceries, catch a glimpse of Miley Cyrus, or wake up with  no heat in my apartment doesn’t mean I have anger management problems. In fact, I would argue that I have my anger perfectly managed. I prefer to refer to myself as “disgruntled.”

Just try not to become enraged.

See, I love to threaten people. I like to say things like, “If these dishes aren’t done when I get home I’m going to fucking stab you!” or “If this girl doesn’t shut up I am going to punch her in the throat!” and to this day, I have yet to be hauled in for assault and or battery. I’m only angry and violent in theory, not in practice, which is the way I like it. I’m a trash talker at heart, so here’s an example of something completely common and trivial that happened to me and resulted in an epic story of utter pain and suffering with lots of violent threats and nasty name-calling to boot (brace yourself, it’s a doozy):

One evening we went to The Alligator Lounge in Williamsburg, for drinks and free pizza. We immediately got our bevs and pizza tickets to get our free sustenance, and after collecting the pizzas went to the back of the bar to stuff our faces. Since there were hardly any seats in that near-pitch black space, among the drunkenly dancing hipsters, my boyfriend and I shared our pizza on a small space of floor between the chair he sat on and this little ledge where I was perching.

We both get one tiny slice into our hands, and then the DJ comes crashing through and walks all over our pizza. What. The. Fuck. Man. If you’ve ever been drunk and starving, you would know that this sort of infraction is stab-worthy. I wanted to fucking kill this guy. He laughs and goes, “Oops sorry dude I’ll get you a new one,” as he makes his way back into the DJ booth with absolutely no intention of getting us a new one.

I sat there steaming for about 15 seconds before I ran back to the bar, told the bartender the DJ walked in our pizza, and got a new ticket. I presented the ticket to the pizza guys, who told me to wait 15 minutes while they like piled wood or some shit. Well that’s fucking great, I’m starving, some asshole ruined my food, and now I get to wait.

That’s fine, you’re just doing your job, as long as I get a fresh hot pizza. So my boyfriend and I stood there. Waiting. For 20 minutes while these two guys glared at us and stacked wood. They were not happy that we didn’t go away. I was not happy that they took close to 30 minutes to stack wood.

Just as they’re finishing up, a horde of people arrive at the pizza oven ready to hand over their tickets and reap immediate pizza. Go fucking figure. So after we’ve waited my entire life to get something to eat, the guy finally takes our tickets, gives us a dirty look, and literally tosses us two pizzas that had been sitting out on the counter the entire time.

Like we were fucking standing there waiting to get old leftover shit that wasn’t hot. I was incredulous. Infuriated. Outraged. My boyfriend slid the pizzas back to the guy with a terrible attitude and told him to put them back in the oven for a few minutes, because the guy clearly did it to piss us off.

Then some hipster cunt with black plastic framed glasses leaned over me and yells at my boyfriend, “You’re getting free pizza! Just be happy!” like it was any of her fucking business, and as if I come to Alligator Lounge for any reason besides that they have free fucking pizza. I don’t go there for the friendly staff or pleasant ambience, that’s for damn sure. This girl was a grade A twatburger and trying to start some shit, when she had showed up 10 seconds before and was getting something to eat.

And as if she knew anything about true pain and suffering! The DJ walked in my pizza, biotch, don’t tell me to be happy after I’ve stood around waiting half an hour for a rude guy to throw old cold pizza at me! So my boyfriend told her to fuck off, which was the least of what she deserved.

I’m sure if Subway Gal had been there, this girl would’ve left the bar with a broken bottle protruding from her skull. And to top it all off, the doucher who was serving us then had the balls to complain about my boyfriend in Spanish to the other guy he was working with, like we’re completely illiterate retards, when it’s a known fact that I am only partially illiterate, and my boyfriend isn’t retarded, he’s Irish.

Needless to say, we sort of lost our appetite after this ordeal and the only thing I really wanted was to burn this fucking place down and piss on the ashes. My boyfriend and I left the bar feeling incredibly stabby and bitched to each other loudly and copiously on the cab ride home and repeatedly vowed to never go back to Alligator Lounge again (unless we were packing kerosene and matches.) Williamsburg, I don’t think you’re fucking cool.

So you see, while I often claim and wish to inflict bodily harm on just about anyone who gets in my way, and even tore my friend a new asshole (verbally) for calling my story “overblown” and “silly,” and saying I “complain too much,” I sit here a free woman. Or, maybe no one’s really pushed me to my limit yet. And you’re lucky I don’t carry a bowie knife.

[picture from Jaws, the movie. and also horrorstew.com]