YMBAA

Warning: If you want happiness and positivity today, go read Ziggy or something.

Damn I’m in a foul mood today. The straw that broke the camel’s back happened when I pulled into the Super Target parking lot this morning. I was inspired by a car I saw to come up with a variation on Jeff Foxworthy’s You Might Be a Redneck thing. Mine’s called, You Might Be an Asshole. So here’s my first one:

If your car has windshield wipers on the headlights – you might be an asshole.

And look, if any of you have a car like that, don’t take offense. Remember, as far as assholes it takes one to know one, and the fact that I would even think of something like this makes me the biggest asshole of them all. And yes, I’m sure someone else has come up with this idea before. And yes, I know they wouldn’t be “windshield wipers” if they were on your headlights. I don’t care.

So this dating thing isn’t going so great. Big surprise. I mentioned a girl that I had emailed and then didn’t hear from for a week. So I emailed her last Sunday to see if she was doing OK and to see if I could call her, and she finally replied on Monday and gave me her cell phone number. I was drowning in homework the first part of last week, so I sent her a message to ask if Thursday would be a good day to call. No answer. On Thursday I called her anyway. No answer. I still haven’t gotten another email from her. I’ll try to call her one more time, but that’s it. I can take a hint. F%&*!!

There was another girl who I had exchanged several emails with. In her last message she asked if I would be interested in going to a movie sometime (she’s about as big a movie freak as I am). So when I wrote back to say “Sure” on Friday, I hear nothing back. What the hell?

This is going about as well as this type of thing usually does for me. I don’t know how much more of this bullshit I can take. It’s fucking humiliating.

What can I say, I’m a quitter. It reminds me of playing racquetball with one of my college roommates. This guy had it all, he got straight A’s and he was also a good athlete. We would sometimes play racquetball. Usually he would win. Sometimes I could make the games close, but overall he would just kick my ass. After a while it just got so frustrating to be trying as hard as I could and still getting my ass kicked. So I just quit trying. I guess it’s a protection mechanism because if you don’t try you think: “Well, I could do this if I really wanted to.” It sucks when you find out that isn’t true.

Oh, and if you give a guy your phone number and then you never answer the phone – you might be an asshole.