So, we all have that “friend” that everyone puts up with but is basically a huge pain-in-the-ass, right? The one that’s married to that cool chick that always buys stuff from your crappy jewelry parties or the nice guy who will help build a chicken coop at a moment’s notice. You know who I mean. We put up with the asshole because we like their better half. And in this instance, “better half” is not a cutesy way of saying spouse. It means there’s a good half and a shitty half of that partnership. So, because I like science, let’s make some random and completely unscientific correlations regarding those kinds of assholes!
Scenario 1: the asshole who goes the hell off at trivia because they feel that some people’s input to the group’s answers is being favored because said people will get their panties in a bunch if their answer isn’t the one turned in, no matter how ridiculous it is.*
What makes you the dictator of fairness? Nothing, apparently. No one else cares, so why should you? You sound like a PMS-ing shrill-ass harpy that eats babies. You’re freaking everyone out around you! Your husband is telling you to calm down, and you’re just going on and on about how SOME people are catered to because they’re pansy ass whiners and how it should be a group effort: majority rules, not he or she who wears the whiny pants rules! Stop freaking the fudge out, bitch!
Scenario 2: the asshole who freaks out because people are waffling on how many points to bet for the final trivia question?
Asshole’s Point of View: First, it was zero, then it was 1, then it was 10. Are you kidding? Make up your minds! Who gives a shit? We’re not going to win.* First, it didn’t matter what we put as the answer because we were betting zero. And then all of a sudden, we have to have the right answer RIGHT FUCKING NOW because someone said we needed to WIN RIGHT NOW OR WE WERE ALL GOING TO DIE? Holy crap, you want to change the amount of points in the last freaking 20 seconds of time that we have left and we need to be all FRANTIC ABOUT IT WITH YOU? Um, no thanks. I’ll pass. But I’m gonna get all up in your shit for wasting my damn time. Again.
Everyone else on Earth’s Point of View: We’re drinking and having fun! Let’s play this game! Yay!
What do those scenarios have in common; what’s the common denominator of the scenarios above? The asshole, that’s who. Well, folks. It’s official. I’m the asshole, the “lesser half”; I AM the common denominator. And in case you hadn’t noticed, that’s not a good thing. But you know what? I don’t care.
Because here’s the deal: I don’t give a rat’s ass if you like me or not. I have very few good friends that I will do and say anything in front of. They know they don’t have to make excuses for me. I will not misrepresent myself. I am who I am, mo fos. Take me or leave me. Also, you can come to me if you need to have a “come to Jesus” meeting with someone. I’ll tell them like it is, and I’ll like doing it. So, I got that going for me.
Now, this asshole needs a beer. It’s Thirsty Thursday!
* The second asshole, the one who whimpers about their inadequate answers, is a totally different kind of asshole and is not being addressed in this post. That being said, here’s a little rant for that jackass:
Trivia question in Historical Geography: What Portuguese capital was devastated by an earthquake and tsunami in 1755?
The answer we turned in: Brasilia (You know, the one in Brazil. That must be the answer because Brasilia’s on a DIFFERENT. CONTINTENT. than. Portugal.)
To the guy who basically forced us to turn that answer in: You’re a big damn baby. What are you, 65? And you’re gonna whine because you think you know the answer? You knew it was Lisbon. EVERYONE knew it was Lisbon. But we had to put in fucking Brasilia because you just needed to read more into the wording of the question and make a freaking mountain out of a mole hill (they said “Portuguese capital”, not “capital of Portugal”). And then we lost. *jazz hands* Happy, asshole? Yeah, we aren’t either. You know who you are. And you’re the reason this common denominator will no longer be going to trivia. Well, I’ll probably go, but I’m not playing even if I know the answers. I’m just going to sit back, point, laugh, and say, “I told you so, bitches.” And then I’m gonna drink ALL. THE. BEERS.