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Wednesday, August 23, 2006
Fucktards not-so Anonymous.
Alright, things are getting a wee bit ridiculous.
And, yes! I'm aware that such a statement means absolutely nothing to you, my beloved reader, but that's the point of all the words posted below. It's a technique I like to call "what the fuckinging" the reader into continuing on." Curiosity killed the cat, even if the cat in this scene is played by your time and intelligence.
I happen to be in a band. The details are pretty inconsequential, but I'm sure someone will pipe up and be all "What kind of band are you in?" *said in best dumbfuck voice*, so lets get all that shit out of the way, shall we? I'm in a hardcore band, I sing. I've been in it for a fairly decent amount of time, and in no way does the fact I sing in a band mean I can sing. I admit that I'm fairly good when it comes to the lyric writing, but when it comes to singing? Eh. Jury is still out, but I must be doing something right if they haven't kicked me out and if other bands have asked me to guest, right?
The guys in my band and I get along fairly well--mostly because I'm not girly at all and I'm the product of growing up with guys, and they all have girlfriends. Well, did have girlfriends. The drummer is newly single.
And that is what is so fucking ridiculous. He's been single for about a month, and being single for that long has either rendered him terribly desperate, or he's just been masterbating so much he really is going blind, because for the past three weeks he's been trying non-stop to get me to fuck him.
He tried the sweet and kind route, he tried spending more one-on-one time with me, and when all of those sweet "I'm such a nice guy" attempts failed, he's changed up his game and has gone the direct route.
[Just as a public service announcement to you testicle-toting bitches out there: Asking a chick flat out for sex is a good way to go if you never want her to become intimate with your wang.]
So, basically, for the past week and a half he's been trying to get me to bang him with uber awesome drunk-dials, blatantly asking me to come over mid-afternoon for some afternoon delight, trying to coax me to his place with promises of puppy play-dates. You name it, the guy has tried. He's even tried to "put the moves" on me while we were waiting for the bassist and two guitarists to show up. Lets just say it's never good to try and get some from a girl who is fairly well versed in Krav Maga.
What's hilarious is that he will hardly talk to me when the whole band is together. He doesn't ignore me, but I don't think anyone would guess he's seeminly made it his life goal to fuck me based on our interactions at practice, shows, or when we all hang out.
So...What the fuck? What's a girl to do?
I can't just go off on the guy like I normally do, or inflict physical pain--which I also normally do, because I have to see the guy a minimum of three times a week. If I tell the other band members what's going on, then they'll most likely kick his ass out (a decent drummer is so easy to find) and then I get to reap the smiting glory of my bitch-ass conscious. I can't exactly sit him down and have a heart to heart and lay things out ever so simply with seven words--"You don't have a shot in hell."--because that really hasn't worked without him putting a hand on my thigh or trying to shove his tongue down my throat.
Bleh! Why am I a douchefuck magnet?
I guess I'll have to start actually wearing underwear again, huh?
kitty kat spoke at 7:46 PM
and
11 people united to combat the evil fucking care bear stare
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