Bridget Phetasy is awesome and beautiful and…and…and I really don’t know what she does but she wrote that^^ awesome piece of awesomeness and she inspires me…I told her once online…she still hasn’t responded..oh well, story of my life.
I like to think I’m the kinda asshole that makes being an asshole seem OK…a classhole, if you will. The kinda asshole that James Bond is, you know? No? Am I just talking outta my ass?
Ya, that happens. It’s whatever, we’ll live.
Hey guys!…Whoever is reading! been a while. You know, like, two weeks, I missed you, I promise, and I’m totally not just saying that to get laid…yep, nope, not this time anyway.
If you care, I was in Las Vegas playing a punk rock show, cuz I’m a punk rock drummer.
Which is kinda funny cuz, like, whenever I go out with my band and I say that we’re in a band. I ALWAYS get pinned for the drummer, or if the “What do you play?” question is asked and I answer with a typical classholey “I’m the drummer,” the response is usually “Oh…well that makes sense/coulda guessed/oh, well, duh” kinda thing. I like it. I kinda really like it actually.
Now that we’ve gotten THAT little tidbit outta the way. I would like to share something with you that not a lot of people know about me…ready? k good.
I. FUCKING. HATE. LAS.VEGAS.
it sux…with a capital UCKS. Cox N Dix…(reference anyone? I’ll give you a hint…greatwhitebuffalo…no one? eh, don’t worry about it)
But yeah, Vegas. Not a fan. I mean, I don’t mind it when I’m with my buddies and we’re being all Vegas’y n shit doin the Vegas thing (whateverthefuck THAT is) but when I get back I feel like the tobacco filler inside a leftover spliff that’s been sitting on the balcony of a frat house for two days; smelling like stale beer and soggy cigarettes mixed a shame cocktail and garnished it with depression and an empty bank account.
wait…WAIT…FUCKIN WAIT…what were we talking about? oh yeah. Being an asshole.
According to THAT^^ list, it’s completely acceptable. I’m here to tell you, me, the random mutherfucker writing shit on the interwebs, telling you,
THAT IT”S OK. cuz there are assholes that are assholes for the right reasons.
lemme clarify something. Assholes are NOT douchebags. Douchebags fall into the pussy category because there is some sort of insecurity that makes them do the things they do.
A pinnacle difference is their treatment of women.
Douchebags fuck anything and everything, well, because they can. Why? because their false sense of security and confidence tells them that getting naked with that woman or this woman will reaffirm their masculinity and blahblahblahblah (fuck, there are books written about this shit, go read one, cuz I’m not gonna write it, I’m just ranting)
Bear with me…this post doesn’t have a point, I promise.
Assholes will fuck with those who will fuck with them and it will be awesome. BUT an asshole, at least one who is assholing correctly will be upfront, actually saying something like “Hey, I really just want to get you naked and make you cum cuz I think you’re hott” which will unfortunately later turn into “hey, um, I’m having trouble committing to you cuz, well, shit I’m a guy and I get stoopid sometimes, I’m sorry for having loved you without realizing I had no intention of loving you. You deserve more. I’m an asshole.”
In that instance are those assholes being pussies? Fuck, maybe. I don’t know. I didn’t write the book about it.
But here, I’ll now tell you a mostly-unrelated-but-relatable story about a time, recently, in Vegas, when I was an asshole.
Guys, I got in a fight. Now, it wasn’t a fight by most people’s standards. More of a scuffle, but this drunk mutherfucker who picked a fight with my buddy and I picked a fight with the wrong assholes.
I won’t give you a play-by-play, that would be exhausting. Here’s how it happened though.
My buddy and I were walking (ok, stumbling) back to our hotel room and we happen to pass this mutherfucker giving shit to a couple of security guards. We laughed at him because what he was saying was unintelligible bullshit. Fast forward three minutes, and this mutherfucker catches up to us (we had a feeling he’d be following). The douchbag steps to me like he’s some kinda tough guy and starts spouting more unintelligible bullshit, only closer this time.
Now, I’m between 215 and 245 lbs depending on which broken 24 hour fitness scale I’m using. I won’t lie, (*pause and wait for intentional horn toot) but I look like I should be playing rugby for Ireland. This dude was a Maltese barking at a Wolfhound. Next thing I know he’s looking me in the eye and throwing a cheap shot at my buddy next to me.
Without hesitation, I shoved this mutherfucker. Hard. Into a bush. He stood up and got in my buddy’s face. It took 1 and a half licks to put him back on the ground. By that time, the original security guards had showed up. The licks my counterpart gave him opened up a gash in his head and he was bleeding heavily. The guards told us to go. I think they were stoked. Though he was still talkin’ shit, the tussle was over.
Thinking about it afterwards, reflecting on the beating that my buddy and I had given this drunk douchebag (separately, mind you, at no point did we gang up on this dude. We aren’t dishonorable swine). We concluded that it was a good thing he ran into us so we could put him in his place.
What if he had run into someone who was equally drunk but couldn’t defend himself?
What if he ran into a girl?
Growing up I was under the impression that fighting was never an option. I don’t know why. I am glad that I was finally able to experience an instance where it was not only warranted to defend myself but also justified. Nevertheless, I still felt like an asshole…but like, the kinda asshole that James Bond would have been. (oh, wait, did I just make a point? weird how writing works).
You can be an asshole, but be the asshole in the never-ending crusade against douchebags. Be confrontational. Stand up for people. Call people out on their shit. It feels good. I promise.
The next post will be sexier.
Cheers, beautiful people,