Seems like this is the time of year a lot of people go through break-ups. Friends, bands, family.
Maybe it's the weather. Or maybe the general reality of dealing with a person's shit just gets old. It's cold, everybody's broke, so we all stay at home and get on each other's nerves. Winter is shitty like that.
A break-up always spawns a series of questions. When do I begin stalking? What kind of stalking should I do? Can I threaten anybody they date? Do I spitefully sleep with somebody else just to fuck with them? How about their best friend?
So many questions!
Frankly, I have no idea. I never get far enough with a woman to actually be dumped. And if a woman I don't like starts to get too close, I show her this blog, and that usually scares her off and out of my hair. If that doesn't work, I show her my web browsing history. By then she's running out the door and never looking back.
Asking me for advice about love is like asking Kanye West about humility. Neither of us have a clue what you're talking about.
Love? Isn't that when you would do anything for her but she goes out with other guys and calls you a friend? Yeah! I've been in love before. Totally sucked ass!
So, yeah--alien concept.
Relationships are a completely different matter. Relationships aren't about love, they're about living with a person, and dealing with their shit. I'm good at that. I know people better than most.
I've always seen relationships like a chess game with hidden landmines and random Gorgon attacks. And then sometimes, reality just shifts for no reason like a David Lynch film, and we're on different sides in a different place. Today is The Black Lodge, tomorrow is in the cafe.
Really, I don't have any sage advice for all of you folks going through break-ups right now. It sucks, I know, but nobody ever has any wisdom in those times. It's like Chicken Pox or the Mumps. We all get that, then our bodies get stronger, and we don't get them again.
At least, that's how it's supposed to work.
Instead, break-ups, shoot-downs and unrequited loves are more like hangovers. We know drinking that cheap beer all night comes with a price. And at some point in our night of drinking, we said to ourselves, "Meh, fuck it! I'll pay for this tomorrow. Let's get tacos!" So we did.
The next morning we made a whole bunch of promises to ourselves. None of those we kept. Well, for me I once refused to drink endless pitchers of Natural Light, and kept that promise. My liver still thanks me.
We know that wonderful person is toxic on some level but we gravitate towards them anyways. They're gonna hurt us. It's so obvious there is a large, neon sign blinking "Wrong Way, Dumbass!" And yet somehow we ignore that sign and look for some small detail in the other person to latch onto like a lamprey eel. "Oh! They smiled at me! I'm certain they're not going to rip me apart this time."
I've often caught myself being an emotional moth that blindly goes towards a bright light only to die a horrible death alone and battered from bashing my brains against the bulb over and over again. I don't have any evil ex's to deal with. Instead, I've always been the one less than what they needed and too much of the wrong things.
It's hard not to be bitter when these things happen. After a while of being the cute but misunderstood puppy in the pound that nobody wants to adopt, it's easy to become jaded and cynical. The alienation gets rubbed in by the happiness of others. This is why I loved Sam Kinison's comedy so much.
Sam was the voice of the Rejected. He was the guy that men would listen to when their break-ups went horribly wrong. I was lucky enough to see Sam perform live just a few weeks before he was killed in one of the most ironic deaths comedy can offer.
Sam even wrote a great break-up song. Far better than anything Taylor Swift would ever come up with, I promise.
In the end, I don't really have any advice. I'd like to say we get strong by all of these emotional Cleveland Steamers but I don't think we do. I think each one is different, like a cold, and while we might be immune to that one bug after a while there is still another bug waiting to kick our asses. You would think with over six billion miserable assholes on this fucking planet this shit would somehow be easier, but it's not. And when you're a Creepy Van Guy, it's really hard.
So that's it. If you just broke up with somebody, happy stalking!
Maybe it's the weather. Or maybe the general reality of dealing with a person's shit just gets old. It's cold, everybody's broke, so we all stay at home and get on each other's nerves. Winter is shitty like that.
A break-up always spawns a series of questions. When do I begin stalking? What kind of stalking should I do? Can I threaten anybody they date? Do I spitefully sleep with somebody else just to fuck with them? How about their best friend?
So many questions!
Frankly, I have no idea. I never get far enough with a woman to actually be dumped. And if a woman I don't like starts to get too close, I show her this blog, and that usually scares her off and out of my hair. If that doesn't work, I show her my web browsing history. By then she's running out the door and never looking back.
Asking me for advice about love is like asking Kanye West about humility. Neither of us have a clue what you're talking about.
Love? Isn't that when you would do anything for her but she goes out with other guys and calls you a friend? Yeah! I've been in love before. Totally sucked ass!
So, yeah--alien concept.
Relationships are a completely different matter. Relationships aren't about love, they're about living with a person, and dealing with their shit. I'm good at that. I know people better than most.
I've always seen relationships like a chess game with hidden landmines and random Gorgon attacks. And then sometimes, reality just shifts for no reason like a David Lynch film, and we're on different sides in a different place. Today is The Black Lodge, tomorrow is in the cafe.
Really, I don't have any sage advice for all of you folks going through break-ups right now. It sucks, I know, but nobody ever has any wisdom in those times. It's like Chicken Pox or the Mumps. We all get that, then our bodies get stronger, and we don't get them again.
At least, that's how it's supposed to work.
Instead, break-ups, shoot-downs and unrequited loves are more like hangovers. We know drinking that cheap beer all night comes with a price. And at some point in our night of drinking, we said to ourselves, "Meh, fuck it! I'll pay for this tomorrow. Let's get tacos!" So we did.
The next morning we made a whole bunch of promises to ourselves. None of those we kept. Well, for me I once refused to drink endless pitchers of Natural Light, and kept that promise. My liver still thanks me.
We know that wonderful person is toxic on some level but we gravitate towards them anyways. They're gonna hurt us. It's so obvious there is a large, neon sign blinking "Wrong Way, Dumbass!" And yet somehow we ignore that sign and look for some small detail in the other person to latch onto like a lamprey eel. "Oh! They smiled at me! I'm certain they're not going to rip me apart this time."
I've often caught myself being an emotional moth that blindly goes towards a bright light only to die a horrible death alone and battered from bashing my brains against the bulb over and over again. I don't have any evil ex's to deal with. Instead, I've always been the one less than what they needed and too much of the wrong things.
It's hard not to be bitter when these things happen. After a while of being the cute but misunderstood puppy in the pound that nobody wants to adopt, it's easy to become jaded and cynical. The alienation gets rubbed in by the happiness of others. This is why I loved Sam Kinison's comedy so much.
Sam was the voice of the Rejected. He was the guy that men would listen to when their break-ups went horribly wrong. I was lucky enough to see Sam perform live just a few weeks before he was killed in one of the most ironic deaths comedy can offer.
Sam even wrote a great break-up song. Far better than anything Taylor Swift would ever come up with, I promise.
In the end, I don't really have any advice. I'd like to say we get strong by all of these emotional Cleveland Steamers but I don't think we do. I think each one is different, like a cold, and while we might be immune to that one bug after a while there is still another bug waiting to kick our asses. You would think with over six billion miserable assholes on this fucking planet this shit would somehow be easier, but it's not. And when you're a Creepy Van Guy, it's really hard.
So that's it. If you just broke up with somebody, happy stalking!
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