Current mood:
triumphant
Category: Romance and Relationships
Tonight was one of those rare nights, where for the second night in a row the DC area is devoid of any type of chance to perform stand-up. Without the approval of, or semi-undivided attention of strangers, my life feels incomplete. Yes, I do have the emotional depth of a hotel room ashtray. So as I'm walking around the grocery store making a mental laundry list of the bad decisions, missed opportunities, and failed relationships that have turned me into the cocky, self loathing, walking contradiction that I am - all I see are couples & pairs of friends walking the aisles enjoying each others company.
Maybe deep down inside these people hate themselves. I hope they do. They should. However, fortunately for them and unfortunately for me, they are hiding their self hatred. At the time my facade of being comfortable in my own skin was about as realistic as any of VH1's "____ of ______" dating show contestants actually looking for love.
After successfully completing my purchase of rice cakes & Lava soap. Rice cakes & Lava soap. When those two items are your only purchase at 9:54pm on a Monday night you should proceed to the nearest train tracks. Hold one item in your left hand & one in your right, sit down in between the rails and wait. So as I'm sitting in my car, in the parking lot, looking at my map for the nearest railroad crossing I receive conformation that God might not have turned his back on me. At least not all the way.
My guardian angel came in the form of a douchebag of the highest order. I never thought a perseverance candy-gram would come from a Too Fast, Too Furious: Tokyo Drift rejected extra failing to pimp park not once, not twice, not three times but four times. But it did, and just in time.
So after wiping the sweat from his elongated brow, following try # 5's successful demonstration of How To Be An Asshat, he gets out of his awesome Honda Civic that he's trying to turn into a well polished turd with sweet tint and a kickin' system. He opens the backdoor (yeah its a 4 door) after doing his bowed out roid stagger to the driver side rear door and pulls out a bright shining beacon of hope for me.
For in the middle of the muggy June night, in the dimly lit Harris Teeter parking lot, the walking skidmark draws forth a bright pink purse. I swear I heard a chorus of angels singing just for me. He lifts the aforementioned neon pink handbag towards the heavens like it is Ex-fucking-caliber or the Eye of Thundera, for all to behold and bask in the glory of his pussy whipped-ness. For at that exact same moment his female companion appears from the other side of the car. She of the skinny jeans and uber-tight ironic t-shirt, where ironically the irony is lost on her, proceeds towards the entrance. Each step with her "grocery shopping/fuck me" heels echoing self importance & a lack of self restraint like a wet fart in an empty bathroom. No casts on her arm, no limp indicating a physical disability necessitating that her Affliction t-shirt clad cuckold carry her Pepto-Bismal tinted cunt sac. Nope he's carrying it, cause she told him to. Didn't ask him nicely, just handed down the Draconian edict of "Carry my purse!" and he couldn't move fast enough to keep her happy. What with him being him and the failing at 4 out of 5 tries to pimp park being the hymen on top of the clusterfuck sundae.
With that little display, my frown turned upside down. I tossed the map into my backseat and thought to myself, out loud of course while looking at ME in the rearview "Well at least I'm not that guy!". And I scurried home to write this blog. Then jerk off to the sound of my own freedom!