Heading into work the other day I fell down and skinned the shit out of my knee, the same knee I skinned the shit out of two Decembers ago on the way to the Mutiny to play a show with someone I will refer to as Douchey McDouchebag, stealer of ideas and a manboy of the most pathetic, pitiable sort.
I skin my knees alot. I also used to spend a lot of time with douchebags. Low self-esteem will do that to a girl. Even if it’s a douchebag paying attention to you, you’re really excited that someone’s paying attention to you, so you pay attention to them, and write stories with their kids, and meet them secretly because they are afraid their wife knows about you, and all sorts of other dumb shit, because you think you’re fat and ugly and not worth anyone’s time, so you make all sorts of bad choices, and somehow you end up chasing shots of tequila with a long island iced-tea on a Tuesday night because it seems like a good idea, and he’s so adorable (what with the tequila making him sneeze, and his curly hair and blue blue eyes), and then you realize you’re in the middle of a run-on sentence and you don’t know how to get out. And your knee is still skinned and so is your heart, but that’s totally your fault for wearing it on your sleeve like that. Silly girl.
Anyway, douchey mcdouchebag. (I like the word douchebag, in case you haven’t noticed.) He’s a peterpan ya novelist–no, not novelist, bookwriter, or maybe stringertogethererofwords, he’s certainly not a novelist–who occasionally performs music he’s written, but the only songs he’s ever written of merit were the ones he wrote when he was with me, because I’m totally a muse and shit (there’s the flipside of low self-esteem, the occasional inflated sense of importance, but it’s true in this case), and he never wanted to give my presence in his life credit for inspiring him, but, you know, that’s cool, because he totally has a really. tiny. penis.
…
That was totally bitchy, but, you know, so is letting your new (internet based and totally fucked up) girlfriend find my old blog and send me emails and act all coy about how she found my blog (“I’m not going to tell you how I discovered your blog! tee hee”) and make me so fucking angry that I couldn’t write there anymore. So here I am. Oh, and also, I didn’t want my blog turning up in searches of my name, because I’m trying to work and sometimes my blog posts aren’t very professional. What with the talk of the tiny penises and all the swearing and shit. Helldamnfart.
