Sometimes I catch myself almost saying things to the kids that I would have no problem saying to any of my grown up friends but that are fairly inappropriate to say to children.
An example:
"I'm trying to find that Spiderman book that Momma used to decorate that cake," Big Brother said.
And the thing I would have said to a grown up friend but caught myself in time not to say to him:
"If it was up your butt you'd know."
Monday, June 30, 2008
the fight
Okay, so it never actually ended up in a real fight, but the negativity swirling around between me and the guy we'll call Jim was at a level that no one could have missed. It wasn't something I wanted or looked for, and I completely failed several times to follow up on the request from Jim to, "Go ahead. Hit me."
I'm calling him Jim because, lately, this guy looks like fat, stoned and nearly dead Jim Morrison from the end of The Doors movie.
When I first met Jim he was dating a girl we'll call M. I had hired her at the pizza place I worked at the time, and she turned out to be one of the people I was most happy to have hired. She worked hard, learned fast, had a good enough attitude in general. While I don't currently see her very often she remains a friend and someone I'm always happy to run into. Jim not so much, but I've never disliked him so much. It's that he just tends to come across as a bit of a prick. They haven't actually dated or been a couple for a few years, and some of what I know he's done in terms of relationships with others tends to lower my opinion of him, though honestly the majority of it is none of my business. Sometimes people have a way of making their business become your business as you shall soon see.
Last night saw me attend a going away party for a friend who is all too soon leaving our fair city to move to the west coast. I arrived late to find that nearly everyone else was already well into the keg of beer. I'd had a few beers spread throughout the day, but I was in no way intoxicated as of the point when I arrived.
Jim and M talked throughout the night, and I could tell from the attitudes they displayed that it wasn't a pleasant sort of conversation. She would talk to him until he got annoying at which point she would try to move away. At some point, when the two of them were not talking, I was talking with M and a friend of hers who pointed out M's need to move to a different part of the house in an attempt to avoid Jim who was becoming increasingly belligerent.
The party was mainly in the back of the house and on the back deck, so I suggested that M and I go sit on the front porch. We took our beers and made our way outside to sit on the porch swing where we were having a fine time. She was a bit drunk, and I was on my way as we discussed the most random things. It wasn't long however until Jim again inserted himself into what should have been a fun and peaceful moment.
I could tell that M was in no mood or state to be left alone with Jim who was unwilling to leave her alone. She really needed to not have to deal with his shit, but she also still cares for him very much. I could also tell that my presence at this time was preferable to his, so I stayed in place, trying to allow Jim his space to talk while not allowing him to push me away or make M feel any worse than she did.
And that was really Jim's problem at this point that he was badgering M, trying to guilt her into agreeing with his point, quite likely trying to get her to come home with him. It wasn't going to happen, and I could tell just from M's body language that she was growing more and more upset. Jim was growing frustrated and angry especially when I pointed out how nice a time M and I had been having before he fumbled his way over. He of course tried to use this to further batter M with the suggestion that she obviously loved me more than him. He was acting quite disturbed by this point, especially when he grabbed my shirt in an attempt to forcibly remove me from the porch swing and the conversation he was failing to have.
I jumped quickly to my feet, removing his hands from me and shoving him away from me which only served, in Jim's mind, to prove his accusations. The conversation devolved quickly from that point, though Jim did walk away for the fewest of seconds. I was trying to make sure that M knew I would stay with her or walk away and let her talk to Jim as she wanted, when he came back around the corner in time to hear just enough of the conversation to know that he was the subject. That caused even more drama, though it did almost get rid of him. He had his backpack and actually made it to the street before turning back to once more plead in the most drunken and ridiculous manner for M to please do what he wanted and for me to please leave.
I wanted so bad at different points to just have it out, to hit him, to beat his ass, to fuck his whole world up, but I also am not the kind of person who generally feels that way. I don't fight. I don't want to be pushed to the point where I feel as if I'm being forced to fight, partly because I know precisely what sort of fighter I would be. The rage switch would flip on and someone, either me or him is anyone's guess, would be completely beaten senseless. I'm not saying this as a brag or to sound like some sort of bad ass, but of the few things I know about myself, the flipping the fuck out thing is one that secretly scares me sometimes.
The closest it actually came to a fight I had finally had enough of Jim's shit. We were back in the house, and everyone there, the people who'd been ignoring Jim's shit, were finally seeing it in its full shitty glory. I'd had enough and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and back him forcibly against a wall. I was in his face explaining angrily exactly why what he was doing made him a douche bag and telling him just how much he really did finally need to get his shit and fucking go. He just kept pointing to his face and asking me to hit him. I almost wanted to so much.
The not fight was quickly broken up as various people finally jumped in and pulled us apart. A friend of Jim's went with him as they left, and I followed them to the door, watching to be sure they actually left this time. They were actually nice enough, as they reached the street, to remind me that, in their opinion, I'm no more than a fucking faggot, and I had to point out how easy that was to say with the whole yard and the fence between them and me. They reiterated their opinion about me and continued to walk away.
Then I went in the bathroom and cried, but just a little.
And now I've got a whole new subject to brood and obsess over, at least for the day. My brain has to over think everything in order to process it, and that's where I've been stuck.
So, how's your day?
I'm calling him Jim because, lately, this guy looks like fat, stoned and nearly dead Jim Morrison from the end of The Doors movie.
When I first met Jim he was dating a girl we'll call M. I had hired her at the pizza place I worked at the time, and she turned out to be one of the people I was most happy to have hired. She worked hard, learned fast, had a good enough attitude in general. While I don't currently see her very often she remains a friend and someone I'm always happy to run into. Jim not so much, but I've never disliked him so much. It's that he just tends to come across as a bit of a prick. They haven't actually dated or been a couple for a few years, and some of what I know he's done in terms of relationships with others tends to lower my opinion of him, though honestly the majority of it is none of my business. Sometimes people have a way of making their business become your business as you shall soon see.
Last night saw me attend a going away party for a friend who is all too soon leaving our fair city to move to the west coast. I arrived late to find that nearly everyone else was already well into the keg of beer. I'd had a few beers spread throughout the day, but I was in no way intoxicated as of the point when I arrived.
Jim and M talked throughout the night, and I could tell from the attitudes they displayed that it wasn't a pleasant sort of conversation. She would talk to him until he got annoying at which point she would try to move away. At some point, when the two of them were not talking, I was talking with M and a friend of hers who pointed out M's need to move to a different part of the house in an attempt to avoid Jim who was becoming increasingly belligerent.
The party was mainly in the back of the house and on the back deck, so I suggested that M and I go sit on the front porch. We took our beers and made our way outside to sit on the porch swing where we were having a fine time. She was a bit drunk, and I was on my way as we discussed the most random things. It wasn't long however until Jim again inserted himself into what should have been a fun and peaceful moment.
I could tell that M was in no mood or state to be left alone with Jim who was unwilling to leave her alone. She really needed to not have to deal with his shit, but she also still cares for him very much. I could also tell that my presence at this time was preferable to his, so I stayed in place, trying to allow Jim his space to talk while not allowing him to push me away or make M feel any worse than she did.
And that was really Jim's problem at this point that he was badgering M, trying to guilt her into agreeing with his point, quite likely trying to get her to come home with him. It wasn't going to happen, and I could tell just from M's body language that she was growing more and more upset. Jim was growing frustrated and angry especially when I pointed out how nice a time M and I had been having before he fumbled his way over. He of course tried to use this to further batter M with the suggestion that she obviously loved me more than him. He was acting quite disturbed by this point, especially when he grabbed my shirt in an attempt to forcibly remove me from the porch swing and the conversation he was failing to have.
I jumped quickly to my feet, removing his hands from me and shoving him away from me which only served, in Jim's mind, to prove his accusations. The conversation devolved quickly from that point, though Jim did walk away for the fewest of seconds. I was trying to make sure that M knew I would stay with her or walk away and let her talk to Jim as she wanted, when he came back around the corner in time to hear just enough of the conversation to know that he was the subject. That caused even more drama, though it did almost get rid of him. He had his backpack and actually made it to the street before turning back to once more plead in the most drunken and ridiculous manner for M to please do what he wanted and for me to please leave.
I wanted so bad at different points to just have it out, to hit him, to beat his ass, to fuck his whole world up, but I also am not the kind of person who generally feels that way. I don't fight. I don't want to be pushed to the point where I feel as if I'm being forced to fight, partly because I know precisely what sort of fighter I would be. The rage switch would flip on and someone, either me or him is anyone's guess, would be completely beaten senseless. I'm not saying this as a brag or to sound like some sort of bad ass, but of the few things I know about myself, the flipping the fuck out thing is one that secretly scares me sometimes.
The closest it actually came to a fight I had finally had enough of Jim's shit. We were back in the house, and everyone there, the people who'd been ignoring Jim's shit, were finally seeing it in its full shitty glory. I'd had enough and grabbed him by the front of his shirt and back him forcibly against a wall. I was in his face explaining angrily exactly why what he was doing made him a douche bag and telling him just how much he really did finally need to get his shit and fucking go. He just kept pointing to his face and asking me to hit him. I almost wanted to so much.
The not fight was quickly broken up as various people finally jumped in and pulled us apart. A friend of Jim's went with him as they left, and I followed them to the door, watching to be sure they actually left this time. They were actually nice enough, as they reached the street, to remind me that, in their opinion, I'm no more than a fucking faggot, and I had to point out how easy that was to say with the whole yard and the fence between them and me. They reiterated their opinion about me and continued to walk away.
Then I went in the bathroom and cried, but just a little.
And now I've got a whole new subject to brood and obsess over, at least for the day. My brain has to over think everything in order to process it, and that's where I've been stuck.
So, how's your day?
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