I Used to Like People

I used to be so gregarious, so social, so interested in other people - so much like my mother. But, as I get older, I now find my self turning into a serious misanthrope - much more like my dad. Lately, I have started to really listen to myself as I go on and on about the stupidity of this person or the irritating qualities of that person and I wonder, "what the fuck is happening to me?!"

I mean, I have friends and a relatively active social life. But, I find that increasingly I just don't like people anymore. The more I think about the problem, the more I realize that it all started when I began taking mass transit/commuting to work.

When I was growing up in Phoenix (a city but not a real city), I didn't mind crowds. I loved chatting up strangers and being places where I could meet new, interesting people. Then, after college when I began working in San Francisco, my interest in these things waned. And then I moved to DC.

DC is a really cool city. It's very young - very alive. But, it's also very full of self-important, self-aggrandizing tools. You hear it all the time on the Metro. People (especially those just out of college and working on the Hill) love to name drop. They tend to think they are literally the most important, most irreplaceable person on the face of the planet. Dare I say, many of them feel they are as (if not more) important than the politician they work for.

And because DC is such a cool city, we are infested with tourists for 9 months of the year. When Winter ends, two plagues descend on the city: the bugs the size of small vermin and tourists who have never seen the following:

Escalators
Light rail or subway systems
Malls with more than four stores
Homeless people

How do I know they have never seen these things? Simple - they take photos of them. And they always seem to manage to be in the way while doing so.

So what's a girl to do? I can't move, and even if I did, I can't go back to suburban city living. I could drive to work (thus avoiding the throngs of humanity I must interact with on mass transit), but the car takes premium and gas is more than $4.00/gallon. I guess I have no choice. I just need to resign myself to the fact that I am turning into my father (but hopefully without the mustache).

Overheard on Metro

I think it's time for a new segment on 2B1B: Overheard on Metro (or heretofore to be called OOM). This week I feel as though I heard an inordinate amount of inane chatter.

So, for as long as this amuses me, a new feature: OOM

In response to a story about a home burglary: "I leave my door unlocked at night just hoping someone will try to mess with me. It's like that time the guy with the gun tried to rob me, and I dared him to shoot me. I said, if you're gonna do it, do it!"

Please comment and share your overheard on metro moments!

The more things change...

I recently went to my 10-year high school reunion. And I was nervous about it - really nervous. I wasn't sure how I would feel or how I would be perceived by others. Would they think I was aging badly? Would they be impressed by my life? Would they think I was one of the ones who "got fat" (oh, I didn't - but I definitely was worried)? When I got there though, I realized that all my nerves were for nothing.

I was struck by the fact that everyone seemed more or less exactly the same. What had changed (other than a few waistline measurements) was how everyone reacted to one another. There wasn't really any hierarchy anymore. The mean girls weren't mean. The dorky guys weren't (as) dorky. And the hot guys definitely weren't hot. But everyone got along and genuinely enjoyed catching up, regardless of where we each fell in terms of the pecking order 10 years ago. I had a really good time, and I felt as though I exercised the last few of those adolescent demons.

Well, today a girl I have known basically since birth posted a photograph of our preschool class on Facebook. I was somewhere between 2 or 3 years old at the time. It's admittedly not my most adorable moment, but it's still cute. Several people have commented, and since I am tagged, I get an email every time someone does. Well, one of the comments was from a guy I went to high school with. He wasn't at the reunion, because he was in the graduating class ahead of mine.

He wrote: "Wow. Check out that noggin on Tami."

This shouldn't bother me - but I know he intended this post to get under my skin. And frankly, he succeeded. It just seems so unnecessary. I don't want to respond on the thread, because he'll accuse me of being too sensitive or not having a sense of humor. But the fact of the matter is that he set out to be derisive. He wasn't trying to connect - I haven't seen him since my senior year of high school when he came to judge a speech and debate tournament for our team (a tournament he was asked to leave, because he had been drinking so much the night before that he still reeked of booze that day). We are Facebook friends - if he wanted to connect, it would have been easy enough to do over the years. And we aren't friends - so he wasn't teasing in a friendly way. No, he wanted to belittle me, much like he enjoyed doing in high school.

I know I have no reason to care. I have a good life. I have an interesting job I enjoy, a wonderful husband, amazing friends and an awesome shoe collection. I've gained some amazing life experiences, while he has gained weight - seriously, he has basically doubled in size since high school. He doesn't really appear to have done much with his life. And based on the reports I got at my reunion, he is a bit of a sad sack. He is stuck in his adolescence (a time where he was king - and relatively fit), which is totally obvious from his stupid little comment. And yet, I am bothered.

It's simple really - people don't change. And sometimes, neither do your reactions to them. At least being an adult shows me that while he still may be good at making me feel insecure, he's bad at life. So basically, I win. No, that is not the mature, adult response. It is the petty teenage one. But, unlike teenage me, adult me can celebrate this petty victory with a cocktail.

MTV Got Something Right

It's a shocker, I know. But one of the ridiculous reality programs on MTV actually accurately portrays the life of one group: the d-bags of the Jersey Shore.

I had my bachelorette party last weekend, and because Vegas is too expensive and far away, we went to Atlantic City. Wow. Let me just say wow. I have never seen so many tiny but muscle-y, orange men in my entire life. And they are super aggressive.

But, it isn't like they have any game - at least any game that I recognize. Granted, I have been in a relationship for a long time, but I think there are some things that are just universal.

For instance, it is not charming or cute to yell at a girl, "Hey, Bachelorette. It's my bachelor party, and we can have sex until tomorrow." In case you are wondering what I replied, I told him he didn't meet the height requirement.

Other things that are not cute:

1) Grabbing ass on the dance floor when the club turns the lights out (however, that did lead to one of the more quotable nicknames of the party. The "butt bongo pirate" was coined by MR. Well done!)

2) Coming up behind a girl and rubbing your crotch on her while grabbing her stomach. No one touches my stomach.

3) Unbuttoning your shirt down to your belly button.

4) Fist pumping

5) Excessive hair gel

6) Tanning until you turn orange. Seriously, orange.

In spite of - or perhaps because of - the men of the Jersey Shore, I had a wonderful weekend. Thanks to the ladies - including my fellow bitch Elle - for making it a great send off to my single lady status. But, I do still hate you all for the tiara and veil.

Things I Do Not Understand

I consider myself a keen observer of the human condition. I think I read people well, and I love to play armchair psychiatrist. However, there are certain behaviors that mystify me. These are just a few of them.

1) People who invite all of their Facebook to events - even their friends who live nowhere in the area.

2) People who reply to all on office-wide emails to say something personal to the sender.

3) People who ask you where you are registered for your wedding, only to buy you random crap that you can't return because it comes from some artisan store in a city where you don't live.

4) People who friend people they've never met on Facebook (FB might be a bit of a recurring theme). Is Facebook looking to make the word "friend" lose all meaning - assuming it hasn't already?

5) Anything anyone does on Metro. Seriously, that could be its own post. But, just a couple:
A) People who sit in the outside seat at rush hour on a crowded train, leaving the seat next to them empty, and then shoot you a death stare when you ask to sit down in the last available seat.
B) People who will stand in the doorway of an EMPTY train! There are empty seats, lots of standing room and they stand right in the way of people trying to enter or exit the train.
C) Tourists who ride during commute hours.

It's as though some people lie awake at night trying to figure out how to annoy other people. If they were looking to annoy me, they succeeded.

What is Still Wrong with Tyra Banks?

Cycle 14 of ANTM premiered this week, and it seems like the standard fair. Tyrant still dresses like a mental patient and overuses the term "fierce" to the point that if it ever had a meaning, it would have lost all of it. There are so many teen mothers in this Top Model pool you'd think she was running a halfway house instead of a modeling competition.

There are the clueless hood rats - in fact, one of them actually referred to herself as "classy ghetto." Yeah, because such a thing exists. There are the powder keg girls who explode seemingly for no reason. Okay, those are the same girls are the clueless hood rats. Interestingly though, they are not the teen mothers. In fact, two of the teen moms claim to have gotten knocked up from their first time, and are more bumpkin than hood rat. Seriously, the only things these girls know how to model are the stereotypes they represent.

All in all, the season promises to be kinda boring, but I will make sure to keep watching - just in case something interesting or original actually happens.

I Love to Hate You

My continuing mantra: I don't blog about work, but suffice to say, it's been crazy busy lately...and also there's been a lot of crazy. To comfort myself, I turn to one of my all-time favorite hobbies: internet stalking people I hate.

What? It relaxes me.

Now, usually Facebook--aka stalker's paradise--is sufficient. I've mentioned, well, many times that I am a huge fan of not being a huge fan of my brother's significantly younger girlfriend. Her recent unprotected (heh) Facebook activity leads me to believe that perhaps she and my brother are not together any more, because she's moved out and neither of those dudes in her profile pic are dearest bro. Fascinating! Because I thought when you managed to survive law enforcement relationship counseling (that's my way of saying the cops were called over a domestic violence dispute while trying to deny my white trash family) you can survive anything. Ahhhh, Facebook. (Try commenting on one of her wall posts or pictures...pretty sure you totally can!)

But what about those nemeses that are actually college educated? Like the one whose Facebook profile you used to happily stalk because you were good enough frenemies to be Facebook friends back when she separated all of her interests with hearts and they included "Ralph Lauren slim fit polos in every color" and "my pink rhinestoned Blackberry." Stupid bitch had to grow up, realize that was unprofessional and get a job AT FACEBOOK where she learned all about privacy settings. So how come I can still see her "Best of Vegas" album?! Bitch, close your mouth...and wipe that shit off your face, no one needs that much makeup...and don't even get me started on the bronzer.

When Facebook fails you, never fear, there's plenty of fun on the internet at large. Who doesn't love a gal whose Twitter name is actually Libby's a Princess, even if her tweets are blocked? But that's not nearly enough. No no, for extra bad days there's the single most vapid thing you've ever read. Personal favorite entry: her Yelp of Southwest Airlines written as if she is Charlotte York. No, not kidding. And when you thought it just couldn't get any better, there's her bio for SF's semi-grown up sorority (so that none of us ever have to really grow up), Spinsters.

Now, one might ask, "what incident precipitated this hatred." Doesn't matter. The hatred doesn't need a reason, it's a reward all it's own. Join me. Internet stalk incredibly hatable people you don't even know. You know you want it. Doooooooo ittttttttttt.

UPDATE: In chatting with Tami this morning, I realized that I left out perhaps the best part of loving to hate dear ole Libby: she was Miss Stanislaus County 2005. No. Joke. Stanislaus: a small but important step above Fresno.

Hey, Costco - Treat Your Members Like They Pay to Shop There!

I have a long-standing love of Costco - in fact, I've loved it since before it was Costco (it used to be called Price Club). My dad used to take me there when I was a kid - and there were always so many wonders available in bulk. The best part for me, being the budding elitist I was as a child, was that you had to be a member to get in. It may have been called Price Club - but it was a members-only club nonetheless.

As I've gotten older, I have noticed that someone has forgotten to tell Costco employees that they are, in fact, dealing with members. Now, the club may not be exclusive. It may not be expensive. But damnit, we pay a membership fee for more than moderately reasonable prices on ridiculous quantities of food (especially since my Costco in Arlington doesn't have gas).

They get ruder and ruder with each visit! On our frequent visits to Costco, my fiance and I like to grab something from, as my friend's grandfather used to call it, Cafe $1.50 (in reference to the super cheap kosher hot dog and soda meal - but I am partial to the slightly more expensive huge slice of pizza for $1.99). Well, the cafe is easiest to get to through the exit. If you go in through the entrance, you have to navigate through the densely packed long lines for check out. Recently though, we have been getting insane attitude from the trolls who check your receipt on the way out. One lovely young girl with one of those beauty mark piercings suggested we didn't realize we were walking through the exit. She tried to tell us the entrance was the other door. Um, you may not have a 6th grade education, but I do - and I can read. The worst part was that the exit was slow - there was no one there. What does she care if we want to get our lunch faster? What were we hurting?

But the attitude is all over the store - even if you aren't entering through the exit! When you check out, they treat you like scum. When you buy food, it's as though you are bothering them. When you're leaving, you get a dour expression as they make a big black or yellow mark down the middle of your receipt. I'm sorry, am I bothering you by coming to your place of employment and making you do your job?

Sadly, I have come to expect this level of service at a large number of establishments (Macy's, I am looking at you). But, I don't pay for the privilege to spend more money in a large number of places.

Costco is like the 2nd largest retailer in the world. They supposedly treat their employees really well. But, they got to be the 2nd largest retailer because of their customers - their members. Maybe it's time they clued in their well-treated employees that if they like their jobs, they should be nicer to the people that make it possible for them to remain employed.

Haaaaaa

Obvious statement of the year: Heidi Montag is a waste of oxygen. The fact that she requires more oxygen than the average person by attempting to sing just makes it all that much more infuriating. Particularly when I have more Facebook friends than she has record sales. Us Weekly reports:

"[I]ndustry sources tell UsMagazine.com that the album has sold only 658 downloads to date."

I'll say it again: Haaaaaaaa.

All Men Don't Suck - Your Taste in Them Does

As I was walking back from the gym this evening, I passed by two young women having a very animated discussion.

Girl #1 - who will be henceforth referred to as "blond idiot with ugly boots" - or BIWUB for short (seriously though, what is with calf high boots? Why would you pay to give yourself the effect of cankles or stumpy legs?), said to girl #2, who will henceforth be referred to as "brunette idiot without an original thought" - or BIWAOT for short:

BIWUB - "He is so retarded, and I really hate that word."

BIWAOT - "I so hate it when people use that word."

BIWUB - "I hate it too. It really bothers me - except when it fits the situation."

BIWAOT - "Seriously, sometimes people are just retarded."

BIWUB - "Honestly, he must have an IQ of 34. They all have an IQ of 34. Men suck."

BIWAOT - "Totally."

So there you have it - two MENSA members casting judgment on the entire male population.

Did it occur to this girl that perhaps men aren't the problem? Maybe she just has bad taste? Scratch that - she definitely has bad taste. I saw her outfit, and it was fugly. But in general, maybe she just has bad taste in men. And her little idiot friend clearly doesn't know her opinion on anything until the blond one tells her what it is.

It gets back to that whole, "he's just not that into you" thing. It is so much easier to make excuses, like he's totally busy, he likes me too much, or all men suck, than it is to look inward. Do the mature thing - egg his car, and find yourself a nice boy.

Pardon Me, But I Believe You Have a Case of Bitchface

So, a couple weeks ago, a friend of mine got incredibly drunk and hooked up with some chick none of us had ever seen before at one of the alumni Cal game viewings. Not being as drunk as he was at the time, I tried to stop him. "Look," I pleaded, "she's not very cute. You're being fooled because you're very drunk, she's acting like she's attractive, and she's wearing tight clothes. In the morning, you're going to find that she's a couple sizes too big for those clothes and she has an ugly face." In the morning, he found that I was right.

Now, this girl is lame, and I guarantee you, you know someone like her. She is the kind of girl who wants very much to be perceived as cool, and so does a perpetual, over the top Regina George impression. She conspicuously gets up, walks around, makes a show of saying hello to multiple people, talks loudly... She's a trying too hard ho with bad skin and frizzy brown hair with a single streak of white highlight on the left side of her face and a real bad case of bitchface. Disgusting.

Well, she disappeared the following week, and we were all sort of hoping she was a collective bad dream...though the friend who hooked up with her knew differently, for she is also the type to purposely leave something behind in the hopes of getting a second date. Seriously, girl is gross.

But no no, she re-emerged the week after, got wicked drunk, kind of fell all over the place, and threw herself at the friend she'd hooked up with. Like not a little toss, full on threw herself to the point of getting jealous every time the friend talked to any of his female friends (myself included) and admonishing him for "paying attention to plain girls instead of her." Really, Ugly? Really?

Well, this week she was back (and the friend she hooked up with was not), and early on in the game, she made a loud announcement that she was tripping over things. Annoyed at her continued loud (and what I assumed was once again inebriated) behavior, I asked the two friends she'd made from our table if they could please stop bringing her. Next thing I know, I'm in the ladies room and the following conversation ensues (reconstructed to the best of my ability)...

Bitchface: I think we need a minute.
Me: I really don't think we do.
BF: Well, you said something kind of aggressive to my friends.
Me: I mean, I don't like you. I don't think we need a minute to discuss that.
BF: OK, but you don't even know me.
Me: Well, no, not well, but I still find you really annoying. And you were acting a drunk 'n bitchy fool last time I saw you.
BF: I wasn't drunk. Who are you to say when I'm drunk?
Me: OK, well, in that case you were acting like an idiot sober. Doesn't make it better.
BF: OK, I guess our personalities might clash, but I graduated before you, which means I have more right to alumni events than you do [eds note: this is your argument? really? I don't even know when she graduated or why I've never seen her at events pre-the bad idea hook up if that's the case, but she knows like maybe 5 people] so don't tell someone who's not even an alum and someone who graduated after me not to bring me places.
Me: I'm pretty sure I'll tell anyone anything I want, but thanks.
BF: Ok, well, you enjoy the game in your little Converse.
Me: Thanks, you enjoy it with your bad skin and your frizzy hair and your ugly highlight.

Now here's my question: Who the fuck has a problem with Converse?

Oh Internet, How I Love You

As is often a favorite topic of conversation, friends and I were discussing my 38 year old brother's 22 year old girlfriend. We went on an amusing journey through her unprotected Facebook photos and stumbled upon fugly internet gold. Please enjoy.

me: her friend designs ugly ass clothes, wow
Wen: i'm so glad i left the south
me: f'ing tell me about it. look at these ugly ass clothes http://www.facebook.com/search/?q=Devan+Logan&init=quick#/photo.php?pid=79795&id=100000227014223
Wen: ok gross. why did you show me that
me: because it's like a car wreck...can't look away and want to point it out to others
Wen: it wasn't a joke. i thought it was, but it's a real advertisement for someone's design. And it looks like they used a camera phone to take the shot
me: right?!
Wen: it looks like a ten year old's art project
me: I know!
Wen: it looks like a picture someone would display in a picture frame made out of Popsicle sticks
me: hahaha
me: Oh, wait wait...yes! http://copelanddesigns.com/
Wen: they look like costumes
me: http://www.myspace.com/copeland_designs
Wen: OH DEAR GOD
me: oh god, it's just so good. I hate to admit this, but Devan dresses well; there's no way she likes this shit
Wen: how can anyone?? i know hippies who might, but they pull it off better
me: what are you talking about, I love brightly colored taffeta on fat girls
Wen: i'm gonna wrap this tulle around me and tie the ends in a ribbon that mounts on my head!
me: fashion!
Wen: birthday cake chic

Why Am I Still Watching The Hills?

Every time I turn it on, my fiance runs out of the room screaming that watching even a second of that crap is causing him to lose brain cells (and whenever I would watch one of the VH1 "of Love" shows, he said I was giving the Tivo herpes), and I agree. It's a vile show about horrible, vapid people. Yet, I cannot stop watching.

A new season started last week, and its star (who incidentally made more than 100K an episode) has decided to live life off camera for a while. Meanwhile, fame whore Kristin Cavallari (who refused to honor contractual obligations to appear on Laguna Beach after graduating) failed at her attempted acting career and has set her sights on the role of Hills villain. It is honestly the only explanation for her behavior. Who starts a fight the second time they meet someone out of the blue?! If there were any doubt (there wasn't) that The Hills is scripted, it's gone now.

And then there is "King" Spencer Pratt. The guy is a douche rocket. And yet, he is sort of an evil genius. He practically has a weekly segment on The Soup, gets magazine covers left and right, and has only recently been eclipsed by Jon Gosselin as Perez Hilton's favorite guy to draw penises on. (Hey, Perez - it's still on, BTW. And if Jon Gosselin is so offensive, STOP GIVING THE GUY FREE PRESS!) He went from being nobody to being as famous as any legitimate celebrity. People who would never watch The Hills know who he is. Anderson Cooper has even talked about him!

I think the reason I cannot stop watching The Hills is that there is some sort of black magic going on. Maybe there are subliminal messages recorded under that lame instrumental music they play for the "previously on The Hills" recap at the beginning of each episode. For such a reviled show, it does well enough to pay its cast obscene salaries for essentially nothing. Adam DiVello seriously has made a deal with the devil, and I hope he rots in hell for cursing the American public with the phenomenon known as "Speidi" and for all the brain cells his program has cost me.

What Else Is Wrong with Tyra Banks

It is well-established that both Elle and I find Tyrant Banks incredibly irritating and plan to write about her often. So, consider this "What's Wrong with Tyra Banks" to be somewhat of a regular column.

Elle was spot-on in her earlier recap of this week's ANTM. The whole scarf thing was ridiculous. Tyrant's set-ups for photo shoots are just getting lamer and lamer (i.e. more and more about her life and experiences). The girls are constantly "embodying" something ludicrous like natural disasters, political issues, and Tyra before she goes to bed.

But I still cannot get over the whole premise of this particular season. Girls under 5'7'' get a shot to be America's Next Top Model, and Tyra gets their undying devotion for giving them this amazing opportunity. But that's not the weirdest part. The weirdest part is that Tyra lets them all wear flats to judging. See, during a normal season, the "short girls" - the ones that are 5'7'' - are routinely chastised for wearing flats to judging. They are told that because their height already puts them at a disadvantage, they should be living in heels. I somehow think they were actually barred from wearing heels this season. I think Tyra - in her never-ending effort to "change the industry" - forbids them from wearing heels. But, I think it's more about her ability to tower over them at her height, plus stilettos, so she can remind them that she is, as Elle posits, America's Next (and only) Top Model.

Trying to Start a Blog War

Perez Hilton is a tool. He is totally bought in to his own hype. Now, I am going to be honest. I absolutely check his blog daily. I don't know why, but I can't stop.

But, that does not mean I respect him or think he's a good writer. I mean, he has thousands (if not millions) of readers and his posts are riddled with typos. More than 90% of his posts are quotes pulled from actual news sources (read, glossy magazines and tabloids) and photos of celebs with penises or compliments drawn all over them. And seriously, with all the money he makes, can he not do a better job of building his site and integrating advertising?! His stupid ads make the blog annoying to read - well, more annoying than the shameless self-promotion and the ridiculous lingo he employs (faboosh!).

So, why would a self-proclaimed reader of this drivel attack him on a much less popular and read blog, you may ask? Well, I am hoping to start a blog war! Suck it, Perez! I mean, you know the narcissist has a Google Alert set up for himself, so he can see what others are saying. Maybe if I write enough nasty stuff about him, he will write nasty stuff about us, and then we'll get more readers (and some annoyingly integrated advertisements). Really, there's no downside here.

So, Perez Hilton, I challenge you to a blog duel. I can reprint "news" from Us Weekly and talk crap about Speidi as well as you can (and I can certainly do it with fewer typos and a more extensive vocabulary). So, whatcha made of Mario Armando Lavandeira? That's right, I called you out by the name your momma gave you. What do you think of that?

Clean Up After Your Dog

My complex is pet-friendly, which means lots of dogs - they even provide baggies and special places to dispose of the waste. This is precisely why I am so mystified by people's insistence in leaving their dog's shit on the middle of walkways. Dear everyone who has a pet they don't think they need to clean up after. Next time you leave your dog's shit on the sidewalk - I hope someone makes you eat it.

Keep Honking, It'll Help. Really.

So as I was crossing Washington Circle to get to the Metro today (for those non-DC folks, there are a number of traffic circles in DC with stop lights that mostly exist to facilitate pedestrian crossing. However, those lights give pedestrians like 20 seconds of less to cross and take forever to change), a DC sightseeing bus ran the red light. The guy held up his hand as if to say, "wait your turn", but IT WAS MY TURN. After he finally was through and I resumed crossing, a woman in a van almost hit me and several other pedestrians. We all held up our hands as if to say, "Lady, what the f***?!" and she held hers up. SHE HAD A VERY RED LIGHT! And she looked at us like we were doing something wrong.

But, that story actually was not the point of my post. The point is, as I was waiting to cross like 7 people were honking at the stopped traffic. Typically, if traffic is stopped, it will not be solved by honking. And, even if it could be, do multiple people honking solve the problem that many times faster?! Let me answer my own question. No, just NO!

So, do the world a favor. Use the horn for its intended purpose: as a warning of your presence or an impending collision. Not as an extension of your anger management issues.

Facebook Archetypes

CNN, in all of their reputable newsiness, have put together a list of the 12 most annoying Facebookers. They left off everyone with an STFU site already dedicated to them, but they did capture my personal pet peeve: "The Sympathy Baiters."

Since we're on the subject, I'll point you to an oldie-but-goodie post from the blog of our inspiration, 2 Birds, 1 Blog: 20 Male Poses of Facebook.

Universal Solutions

Interpersonal relationships are complicated, whether they be romantic, friendly, or working relationships. That being said, my best friend from college and I came up with a couple of activities that, when all else fails, act as universal solutions. I'd like to take this brief moment to advocate for them...

All romantic problems can be solved with physical violence. All interpersonal problems can be solved by throwing things at someone.

Some people would tell you that violence is never the answer. They're wrong. And kind of dumb. You should throw things at them.

In college, said best friend had a complicated relationship with one of those complicated guys who has feelings for you but doesn't want to be with you but but but but but. Finally, she got fed up (and perhaps a little drunk) and hit him in the stomach (or kicked him in the shins? I can't quite remember) and suddenly his feelings became a lot more clear and gentlemanly. (He better be single to this day or I'm going to go either kick him in the shins or punch him in the stomach, whichever fate he escaped the first time.)

Following that, I came to see examples all around me of men who deserved to be on the receiving end of physical violence, either as a reform tactic or an entirely deserved goodbye. Corporal punishment is underrated.

Similarly, when someone gets just so annoying that you can't stand them any more and really have nothing to say, I think it should be socially acceptable to throw things at them. I've given this advice to friends many times and none of them have ever taken it (it boggles the mind), but I've found it thoroughly effective every time I've tried it. I think it's the initial shock of the thing. Or the consideration that, if I'm willing to throw things at you, I'm probably also willing to straight up ruin your life. Which I am.

(Post dedicated to the great and wonderful HM, and Tami and I's rough day.)