Trigger-Happy

You know how sometimes something will happen that takes you back to a certain period in your life? A time that maybe wasn’t so great? And although you aren’t that person anymore, you react from that place in time? Suddenly you’re in the tenth grade again?

Yeah, me neither.

The other night I came home, turned on my computer and checked my Facebook page. There was a friend request from a seventeen-year-old girl who lives in Ohio. Now, when you’re a comic, this isn’t strange. People of all ages and walks of life Google you and want to be your friend, which couldn’t make me happier. Google away. Although, I do check out the profile first, and if there isn’t a picture of a burning cross or a Nazi violating a woman with a Swastika, welcome aboard.

So, I accepted the friend request and then went to her page and left a comment that said, “Hey”—just like I do to everyone. Then I went back to writing (aka playing Spider Solitaire).

A little while later, I checked my page again, and there was a comment from her that read, “Wow, do you have a program that automatically sends out a generic response? That’s pretty lame. Just a word of advice, that’s creepy. Blah, blah, blah. P.S. I’m really ironic and sarcastic.”

Creepy? Really kid? I’ll tell you what’s creepy: the fact that I’m on Facebook at my age. But hey, you contacted me.

So, I guess she had just sent it and I responded to quickly. I’m not sure. All I know is that I went into Heathers mode. I deleted my comment from her page. I deleted her comment from my page , and I blocked her from my site.

Hah! Take that! Let me show you how to be ironic and sarcastic, young lady.

So, hopefully this will teach her a lesson. And also cause her to develop an eating disorder. That might seem harsh, but that’s how you learn.

I do feel a little bad since she’s only had one year of experience behaving like a seventeen-year-old girl whilst I have had twenty-nine.

Please Pass The Porn

Most of my life I’ve been “one of the guys.” My choice. Because to be honest, it’s just more fun.

I remember being a kid playing at my cousin’s house; the girls were inside, the boys outside. Suddenly, I became very frustrated with the situation, and the voice inside my head started screaming. (Everyone hears voices in their head at seven years old, right?) It was screaming,”What’s wrong with you people? Why are we sitting in this room with these stupid dolls when we could be up in that tree, with them? Good grief, what a bunch of pussies!”

The voice didn’t really call them pussies, but seriously, how funny would it be if it had?

Don’t get me wrong: I’m not one of those women who don’t like other women. I have plenty of really cool girlfriends, but most of the time, you can find me hanging with my boys, gay or straight.

The downside to this is that I get stuck doing the dirty jobs that they would never have their girlfriends/wives/boyfriends/lovers/significant others do.

For example, I am the official “porn sweep” to four of my friends. That means if anything happens to them, I’m the person that has to go into their house first to clean out all of the porn so their family and loved ones don’t find it.

I guess they don’t want other people to know about their creepy, dark side after they’re dead. But apparently it’s perfectly okay if I do.

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