- this person,
- his phone number,
- his address,
- his marital status (which I doubt),
- his likes or dislikes, nor
- what the hell his mother ever did to him to make him such a disagreeable excuse for a human being.
This person's unwarranted high-assed attitude totally ruined what was left of last evening and this morning, so it was with some hesitation that I ventured back onto Facebook later in the day to find a post from one of the people working on the production that read, "This is gonna be a grind today. 7am-3pm at the [hotel]; close the play tonight in New Orleans, skip the cast party and head back to Slidell to the [other hotel] for the 11pm-7am shift."
Cast party? Nobody told me there was going to be a cast party.
I am numb. No invitation? Wha...? What?
I find myself longing for the days of our not-so-distant past when people did not broadcast to the world their every thought and half-baked musing. When people still met you head-on, face-to-face, and eye-to-eye. When your friends were stalwart and true and treated you with the kind of heartfelt sincerity that lied through gritted teeth in order to protect your self-esteem and make you feel damn good about yourself. By God, I miss all that Teddy-Roosevelt kind of stuff.
The very image of it is seared in sepia in my brain.
The only thing left for me to do is to gird my loins, return to the scene of the crime, and unfriend all those two-faced phonies like I was deboning a chicken.
But not for a few days.
First, I want to publish this, then post it to Facebook—after tagging them all by name so they'll be sure to read it (even Mr. Don't Spam Me).
After that, I'll drop them.
I'll drop them like hot coals from my manly hands, like so many smelly urchins from around my dinner table.
Mess with me, will ya?
Hi Glenny. I've read this post 5 or 6 times since you put it up, and I was disappointed to be away for the weekend and unable to post a comment until my return. (It's not a very good comment now that I tell you I've been thinking about it for over 24-hours, is it?) I abhor FB, and please do not get me started on all of that. But I adore you and your ability to put words to my thoughts and feelings. These words worked particularly well: "I find myself longing for the days of our not-so-distant past when
ReplyDeletepeople did not broadcast to the world their every thought and half-baked
musing. When people still met you head-on, face-to-face, and
eye-to-eye. When your friends were stalwart and true and treated you
with the kind of heartfelt sincerity that lied through gritted teeth in
order to protect your self-esteem and make you feel damn good about
yourself. By God, I miss all that Teddy-Roosevelt kind of stuff"
I guess I just wanted to thank you for writing about this. It helps me. Also, fuck that guy.
"I just wanted to thank you for writing about this." —You're welcome, sweetheart.
ReplyDelete"It helps me." —I'm grateful that something I went through and managed to express in perhaps a humorous way would benefit you. Remember, it's the little aggravations that wear us all down. People tend to handle the big things like storybook heroes (review your own life, and you'll see that I'm right.)
"Also, fuck that guy." —Not with your (or anyone else's) ten-foot-pole!