I don’t know why all the really good ideas hit me when I’m in bed at 1:20 in the morning.
I was laying in bed, as I’ve already mentioned, and was thinking of writing a blog about dating assholes and what I would want to say in said blog. I still haven’t figured that part out yet, but I’ve started blogging so I’d better come up with something good.
I guess we should start by defining an asshole, apart from the obvious medical definition and anatomical reference point.
An asshole is someone so completely disagreeable to oneself that they call the offender by sphincter which releases feces from the body.
Dating this offender, this…. asshole, is no easy task. If I could I’d post a survey on myspace asking for people to write in some of the worst offenses committed by these blackguards. By all means, should you have some jot them down in comments left to this post and I’ll publish the more horrific.
I myself have been subject to such an orifice. Picture it: New Years Eve 2005-06. We were supposed to go to my brothers birthday dinner and so trudged through the newly falling snow and hopped in his (the asshole’s) mini cooper. The piece of shit didn’t make it down the street before we had to turn back. I very nicely suggested that we stay at home rather than kill ourselves in the process. So back we headed till my brave asshole ex and his fabulous mini cooper couldn’t make it up the first mild incline. We were, luckily, less than a mile from home and I got out to push the car. I didn’t know I would have to push it the entire way up the freakin’ hill! But I did. 400 ft. to the top of the hill, thinking with every step of the nice warm house we had to go back to, how prettily I decorated it, what a nice cup of hot chocolate I was going to make myself and my asshole when we got back. 300 ft to the top and we were nearer the summit which was all the separated us from the downhill slope to the driveway and home. Home, that blessed word! My fingernails were as blue as my lips, my palms kept sticking to the frozen frame of the shit sled called a mini, and the air I was breathing was so cold my lungs would spasm at the affront making me cough continuously in response. But thank God, my asshole was warm. Warm and safe in the mini grumbling about how long this was taking. Then we reached the top. I felt the weight of the car taken from my back, my shoulders, my arms, and a little skin taken from my palms where they had once again frozen to the frame of the shit sled called a mini. I started around the “car” to the passenger door to ride in comfort the 200 ft left to the house when my asshole drove away. I sat in the freezing snow, on the dark street, on New Years Eve, watching my asshole, supposedly the man who loves me, drive his crappy car down hill to his house after I just pushed it up the hill, and run inside to be warm cause the car hadn’t heated up to his specifications. My asshole didn’t even wait for me while I trudged down the road and up the path to the house. That’s when he became, the asshole.
Just wanted to share that with y’all. I might come back and add on to this one. Who knows? The asshole knows….. the asshole always knows…….
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