“Andrea is really great, I like spending time with her.” – Paulo
|Seriously, you are still upset about this...sigh|
It’s true, Paulo actually said this. Well, actually he wrote this, in his private journal the day after we met. The entry was dated August 31, 2002. Paulo has known me a whole year longer than I have graced the West Coast with my presence.
Not only does this quote highlight how great I am (which coming from Paulo is like actually putting me at god level), this also highlights the fact that I go through my friend’s journals looking for references of myself. It’s true. If you have a journal and I have come across it, you can be assured that I have gone through it.
But before you get all upset and shit with me about how I’m invading your privacy blah blah, let me explain 2 things that really show how this is your fault:
|I spent 3 hrs reading this crap for nothing!|
1. Anything you have to say about me really should be said to my face. It is a much better use of my time than having me read through your boring writing scanning for my name. Just take a note from Paulo. He keeps his journals in electronic format, so all I need to do is use the search function to find my name, super easy! It’s opportunity cost really, by now I could have solved whatever issue the middle east is having this week instead I was stuck reading your journal. So stop being so selfish and depriving the rest of the world from my greatness and just tell me how great I am already.
2. I don’t retain any of your writing unless it relates to me. So you sleeping with your cowboy cousin (who looks like a young slightly stoned looking Paul Newman) in his trailer at the last annual family reunion you attended (and you weren’t even drinking!!), yeah, I don’t really care about that stuff. Sure it can be kind of funny when I read it the first time, like how your cousin fucked you on his kitchen counter which was so sticky (because he never cleans!!) your underwear got stuck to the counter and you had to rip it to get off the counter. And then you spent the rest of the night wearing half ripped underwear stuck to your ass and wondering what was that sticky stuff on the counter anyways. Yeah, it’s funny. But really where am I in all of this? That’s right this isn’t about me, this is your journal after all. So why do I care about you and your sex capades with your cowboy-trailer-park-living-Paul-Newman-looking cousin? Oh right, I don’t.
|Yes, your cousin is hot, but I still wouldn't have fucked him.|
So what we can get from this post is very simple:
1. There is a high probability that some tribe of lumbersexuals out there considers me their god. And,
2. You really need to calm the fuck down and stop being angry with me that I read your boring ass journal that barely even mentioned me. I wouldn’t have to go looking for compliments in your private writings if you just told me how awesome I am all the time, like every day. So really, this is your fault. As it always is because god can never be wrong.