I received the following lovely comment today (on this totally unrelated post):
Hey, what's up. I think I can help you with your fugly problem.
See, it's not that you're just fugly as hell. You could still get laid, if you fucking actually wanted to and weren't so obsessed with feeling bad all the time.
Here's the problem with you: you're motherfucking boring as hell, and unbelieveably self-absorbed. Every fucking time I talk to you, you never ever even remotely give a shit. You come wish bullshit like "I'm busy", which you never fucking are, because you spend all your time on your fat ass reading shitty blogs about shit that doesn't matter.
You don't need an SSRI, you need a motherfucking carbon monoxide overdose. Try it, and witness for a brief moment the wonder of Darwinism.
First, I have no idea who this is. No idea at all. I can't, offhand, think of anyone who I routinely tell that I'm busy. Sure, I'm often busy when I'm at work, but in my off-time, no so much. I will admit that I'm a bad conversationalist over
MSN, AIM, Jabber, fax machine and so forth, but that's just one of my little quirks. Never been too comfortable with them (especially the fax machines; I'm at least fairly sure that it's not someone I know in real life.
Right. I shall address their points, because I am in that sort of mood.
"See, it's not that you're just fugly as hell. You could still get laid, if you fucking actually wanted to and weren't so obsessed with feeling bad all the time." - Funnily enough, I have recently come to the same conclusion. The getting laid thing, I mean; I beg leave to suggest that the '
fugly' bit is subjective. But yes, getting laid; not that difficult (surprisingly; I used to think that it was the most difficult thing in the world).
The thing is, I've never been that much into the whole random sex thing. Relationships are more of a problem, because, you know, the majority of people out there are painfully stupid. I realise that this may come across as arrogant, but I'm tired and irritated and inclined to speak my mind. And, as my lovely commenter so rightly points out, I am not the best-looking in the world. My chances of meeting someone who is (a) gay, (b) reasonably intelligent, (c) nice, (d) unattached, and (e) not horrified by the sight of me aren't so good.
"Here's the problem with you: you're motherfucking boring as hell, and unbelieveably self-absorbed. Every fucking time I talk to you, you never ever even remotely give a shit. You come wish bullshit like "I'm busy", which you never fucking are, because you spend all your time on your fat ass reading shitty blogs about shit that doesn't matter." - Oh, dear. Well, again, the boring thing is subjective. About 150 people subscribe to this blog, but I've always wondered about that, I must confess; I suspect that something is wrong with their brains. Self-absorbed -
erm, well, yep, maybe. I mean, this
is a blog, right? I'm
supposed to be. Look at Michael
Arrington. He's clueless and revoltingly naive, and yet he thinks he's the king of the world. That's how blogging
works.
As to the busy thing, well, I am sometimes, you know, dear. And on fat asses, well, really, I can't win, can I? My friends are telling me that I'm too thin, you are telling me that I'm too fat (as did a
Wii tonight; in fairness to it, I had told it that I was 160cm tall, which turns out to be a little under 5'3; oops...) Quiver quiver wobble wobble, and so on.
The post that the person is question left a comment on, of course, was nothing to do with shitty blog
posts; it was about shitty blog platforms operated by slightly scary people (yes, it was
the Wordpress.com thing).
I resent the allegation, by the way, that I spend all my time reading shitty blog posts about shit that doesn't matter. I don't know about you, but I only read highly important blog posts about nuclear energy, stupid Web 2.0 companies, the implosion of the economy, and so on. Oh, and
this, of course, but it's got pictures of cute cats, so is acceptable regardless of the importance of the content.
You don't need an SSRI, you need a motherfucking carbon monoxide overdose. Try it, and witness for a brief moment the wonder of Darwinism.
Now, say what you want about
SSRIs,
SNRIs and so forth, but if not for them, I wouldn't be here today spewing out crap on the Internet to literally twos of people. Direct all complaints to Wyeth, Pfizer
et al., thanks. Carbon monoxide... well, dear, there are really far more
convenient ways of killing oneself. Why, even Hitler had to give up on it rather quickly for his mass-murder (
Zyklon B is rather cheaper, I hear). Try harder next time. Where on earth would one get a fatal level of CO these days, anyway?
Of course, as you can see by this absurdly long post, this random person's complaint
has bothered me, to an extent. I'm sensitive like that. Bad habit; it makes me vulnerable to attack by really very pointless people. If they have an issue, though, contacting me personally, or at least signing off, would surely be more effective?