the fucking battle

I caught myself doing some shit yesterday that I find fucking repulsive and desperate when others do it, so I figured I’d better ‘out’ myself.

We all know at least one person that seeks approval by way of coerced compliments. If you don’t, you’re that sorry sack of shit. There’s also the friend that relentlessly discloses unrequested information to anyone with functioning sensory receptors; snapping the necks on already dead puppies. If I’d said something like “hookers” or “crack-heads” dozens of you would be sending me scathing letters about what an insensitive twat I am. “They’re people too,” you’d proclaim all judgmental, forgetting that only moments before becoming enraged, you laughed – and isn’t that what it’s all about?

I like to swing wildly between coercing compliments and snapping puppy necks. For today though, I’ll focus on Fido and how I snapped his neck in the Von’s Supermarket.

I’ve been dealing with plantar fasciitis for a week or two now. This is where all of you let out a collective “ohhhh…”  [insert sad face here]. See how that manipulative coercion works? I mean, sure, I explained it – but even so, you still felt sorry for me, didn’t you? I’ve been telling any asshole who will listen to me about it. I drop that shit in conversation like it’s fucking casual. “Me? Oh, I’m good, but it’s been tough lately. I got the fasciitis,” I say to virtually anyone that asks how I’m doing. It’s a completely manageable situation if I’d just stay the fuck off my foot! That would be entirely too reasonable a response for this chick though. I like to make certain that I take the longest and most excruciating route, thereby giving me something to discuss with others along the way. Lucky you.

Yesterday I crossed the line. The woman in line ahead of me was purchasing insoles for her shoes. They were specifically for plantar fasciitis. Ask me how I know. Ok, I can see that this is a one-sided conversation so I’ll just tell you. I leaned forward and started perusing her purchase items!  Nope, not awkward at all! It didn’t even get weird when I struck up a conversation with her about said insoles. They were for her husband who apparently needs them for his injury obtained while fencing. None of that really mattered though because I made the conversation about me and my obstinance. She told me about how she used to run but the wear and tear on her body forced her into biking and swimming instead. What I heard was “wha wha wa wa wha wha wa wa,” which loosely translated means: If I say I’m sorry, will you go away? Please leave me alone, you’re scaring me.

I hate it when people talk to me about uncomfortable shit, especially in uncomfortable situations. “No Debra, I don’t want to know about your heavy flow day while we’re here in the line at Mr. Taco. It kills the appetite, ya know? Furthermore, Jorge here just wants to take our order and doesn’t get paid nearly enough to take your ‘special request’ order AND listen to your bullshit.”  

*true story, name changed for Debra’s protection*

So, in short, I left that store yesterday feeling better for having told another soul about the torture I keep putting myself through by continuing to run up to 7 miles a day on my foot. See what I did there? Overshare with the intent to elicit respect and also admiration. Fucking gross, right? No, I have no intention of stopping. No, I have no intention of buying the insoles I so creepily ogled. No, I have no intention of refraining from chastising others from the same behavior that I engage in at stalker level. Hypocrite? Ok, but I know this and didn’t G.I. Joe say some shit about ‘knowing’ being half the fucking battle? Pretty sure he said “fucking battle,” too.

I’m human and disgusting. I’m going to go eat whip cream straight from container now. Hope you all enjoy your Sunday.