Friday, March 23, 2007

Etiquette 101

For far too long I have been a "good guy". For far too long have I sat idly by with a cauldron cover the size of Japan dancing nervously over the sea of molten, venomous words that undulates restlessly in my mouth. People who have been unfortunate enough to be singed by the steam vapours and because of this, have called me an insensitive jerk, have yet to feel the full emotional and psychological burn of what my words can do to a person.

OK it's like this - I'm a nice guy: respectful, tolerant and generally very pleasant to be around as I am indeed sensitive to other people's feelings and I can sense certain topics, that when spoken on around a certain individual can indeed be a little pressure blotch for them. Apparently the rest of this world is not like me. I think it probably stems from the one instance that I took shit (taking shit: being spoken to rudely and don't respond with a flury of cuss words) from somebody and now everybody else seems to mistake me for a toilet. I seem to be a target for people who "don't have a cover fro their mouth" a.k.a. "Fuckin' assholes" in my book, to show to the world just how coverless, raw, uncouth and uncaring their mouth is.

Jot this down in history folks: the first morally correct entry of the Diego Deviant’s history

Case Study No. 1: Internet Acquaintances

Let’s say you post pictures on a website like Hi5 to show the world just how perty you look. You look nice in the pictures, but when I meet you in person you look like you ass felt a chill and sneaked upstairs to hug your face and somewhere along the line, the two merged, making you look like a cross between a cross-section of a loaf of bread and a sea cow on the verge of death.

How I would handle it (the disappointment of your hideousness): I would greet you politely, talk to you normally, end the date gracefully and hopefully never see you again.

How the “coverless mouth” people would handle it: “oh gosh, how you lookin’ so? You en look like nuttin’ I see in dem pictures, gosh you OGLEE!!!... No offense eh (sheepish laugh)”

Two things, if you think being discourteous is cute – it’s not. And “no offence” DOESN’T FUCKIN’ CUT IT!!!! You’re just as bad as a racist.

I get that a lot by the way. Not about my ugliness (‘cause I’m not) but about mostly my stature and size. You see, I’ve got bareback pictures of me up on Hi5 where I’m all flexing muscle and stuff, but please bitches, don’t expect to see my abs through my cotton shirt and under vest – they don’t show like that. You can’t look at somebody and just “detect abs” either. My posture is bad and I’m trying to fix it so I admit, my chest does look a bit concave but if I were greased down and shiny all the time (like in my pictures), I don’t think I’d be very popular at social functions now would I? As for my height, I’m no Shaquille O’Neal but I am an average male. I’m 17 people, not 35. I can only grow so much at a time, I’m not an adult yet and I’m already the average height of a man – I’ll get taller, don’t worry, it’s in my family. Oh, and you bitches who are 4’11”, breaking your back to see past my zipper and then saying “oh gosh boy, you real short!” – you’re just looking for company. For you bitches who are 6’7” and folding in half or looking under your Tobago sized feet to find me – you need to lose your testicles and stay off the ‘roids.

What you see in the pictures is what you get in real life. I’m not the sad nerd who’ll put his head on Arnold’s body and say “Oh yeah, that’s me!” – Relax, it’s all there.

Case Study No. 2:

Remember when I said that saying “no offence” before you insult somebody to ease the blow doesn’t cut it? Here’s what I mean:

A girl would tell you “No offence eh, but your hands remind me of monkey feet… I’m quite fond of monkeys…” That’s all well and good, but when you extract the essence of the compliment, it actually says that your hands look like monkey’s feet – that’s not cool. How’s a person not supposed to take offence to that? Here’s the same compliment, but taken to the extreme:

“No offence eh, but you face reminds me of my ass. I find my ass is just gorgeous and I think you look like it.” Compliment in essence: ass face!

“No offence” does not cut it. If you think you need to say that before telling somebody something, don’t say it at all.

Case Study No. 3:

You and your morbidly obese friend are sitting having a drink at a restaurant. You go to the bathroom to use the scale and find that you put on two or three pounds. You come back to the table and the topic of weight comes up. You look at you friend ad say “Oh my gosh, I’m getting so fat! I mean, just look at this…” at this point you reach under your blouse to pull on the two ounces of fat lining your stomach walls to show it off. A disgusted look is on your face and you’re looking at your friend whose eyes are buried under her eyebrow fat, has a nearly infinitely recursive array of chins, tits the size of your torso and a leg so wide it blocks traffic. How do you think this person is feeling right now as she desperately jitters for the menu to call the waiter whom she hopes by share miracle will bring on a change of topic? Basically what you’re lining up your friend to say is “So what are you gonna say about me then?” Worse yet if you’re in a group and you’re pointing out the one vanity pound in your waist – everybody looks at you then looks at your friend, the obvious thing to say is on everybody’s lips but nobody says it. This is what I like to call loud silence.

Come on people, think of your worst feature, something about your physical self that you wish you could change then think of you on a stage – the spotlight is on you and everybody’s pointing and laughing at that one feature that you wish nobody would notice. If you’re looking down at the keyboard and having a deep thought then give yourself a pat on the back, if not then eat shit!

I’m not a pussy boy who cries to his mom every time somebody tells me something rude, but I must admit that I do take a lot of shit from people. Take today for example:

I come home to my grandmother’s house after climbing the nearly acute La Puerta hill and escaping the searing clutches of the outside sun; I’m as tired as a runaway slave and just as hungry. I eat half of my rations and put the other half down to go and watch a small parade outside. I come back after two minutes and my aunt’s scraping my fuckin’ plate man! That was not cool! And worse yet, she’s making those ridiculous sounds that the Sims make when they’re eating. I just stood there, demanded no compensation (even though she offered) and let the gas from the Coca-Cola fill the empty space in my stomach.

That was the breaking-point that led to the creation of this blog entry. Like Boys 2 Girls – I’ve had enough.

I am now faced with a crucial decision: do I allow the world to taint my pleasant nature and become a profanity spewing hurt machine that thrives on vengeance and the metaphysical breakdown of others? Or do I continue along my path of tolerance and hope that other people take a page from my book and learn that different people react differently to certain things? Well my name ain’t Ghandi, so the second option’s out… lol jk – I’ll think about it.

And this concludes this session of Etiquette 101.

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