Why can't more girls be like me?

I have written in the past of my male friends’ propensity to tell me how they wish their girlfriends/wives could be more like me, or my single friends say they wish more girls were like me.

I hate hearing this. I hate hearing this more than I hate hearing Celestia talk about the fucking weather for the eleventy billionth time in one day. I hate more than I hate hearing the toner salesmen that call and harass me at work all day long.

I hate it. And, yesterday, my limit was reached.

I was at work talking to Little Big Shot (son of Mr. Big Shot, company owner). LBS has made more the one comment to me about how much he loves the perfume I wear, and how great my personality is, how I shake my ass when I walk, and how he has to stop and watch every time I walk by. I secretly think he has a thing for big girls, but he won’t admit it. All the girls he’s dated, and his fiancé, are typical California girls. Tan, boney, and gorgeous.

His friend JJ, who I’ve hung out with outside of work a couple of times was also there, and was telling me about some girl he just broke up with. We talked for a while, and then he said the phrase that is going to kill me: “I wish more women were like you, Andria”

FUCK YOU.

Well, I kind of went crazy. And by “kind of” I mean I screamed at him about how I am like me, and I was sick of guys saying that to me, and that it wasn’t a compliment. And then I told him that if he only dates dumb girls for their big fake tits and tans, then that’s all he’s going to get. There was some rambling diatribe after, but I don’t remember all of it.

I am not even going to waste my breath with a rant on the next guy that says that to me. I am just going to kick him in the balls and walk away.

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I’m going to punch Celestia if she doesn’t stop talking about her fucking new iPod.

SHE WILL NOT SHUT UP.

I suspect it’s only because she knows I want a pink iPod so bad I’m ready to sell a kidney. Damn her.

If I wasn’t such an asshole to her all the time, and devoted pages of cyberspace to my anger, I might be offended.

Her car still smells like giant dog turds.

Hahahaha.

Stick that in your iPod.

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I was chatting with my friend David the other night, and after reading of the repo-man a few days ago, he said “Man, a lot of shit happens to you.”

But I really think it’s just because I am obsessed with people, and I pay attention to things. Crazy shit goes on everywhere. I just look for it.

And speaking of crazy…

My crazy neighbor (the one who named her cats the same name as her own) was fighting with a plant this morning. My bathroom window is right above some of her plants, and I heard yelling while I was in the shower. When I turned the water off, I could hear it was her, and she was saying “Why aren’t you growing?! Don’t I pay enough attention to you? Don’t I water and love you every day? What is your problem?” Over and over and over.

YAY! for crazy people.

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Hot Mailman left a note in my box yesterday (oh, the postal sexual innuendo), leaving me his number and telling me to call him about moving in.

You have no idea how many nasty thoughts I have already had about this man living next door to me. The bad thing is, he used to date Jesus Freak when she first moved in. He likes his girls to love the Lord in a big way.

Dammit.