And another thing...
Disclaimer: So have you ever been in a situation where two people get into an argument and you just happen to be in the room when it starts? You're not sure whether you should sneak out as quietly as you can or give a little cough so that it's known that you're still there. And you're uncomfortable as hell hearing everything, but you want to know what all the fuss is about? I realize that that's what it's been like for anyone reading this blog over the past week or so, especially in the past 2 days. I apologize to the readers for airing out all my iss in the blog. But that's what blogs are for. And that's why my blog is so aptly titled. So, if you're not interested in reading more of my side of an argument (and I'd be surprised if anyone still cares at this point, especially the target of all of this vitriol), please come back for the next post. Anyone who reads past this point has been appropriately warned.
I figured since I've already opened my big fat mouth and started airing out all my grievances, I might as well get it all out there on the table, out of my system, and get as much of the picture painted for you as I can.
I realized the other day when we were out shopping that I've never met your mother. We've known each other for 5 years and I've only met one other person in your family. I've also never seen the inside of your home. I didn't meet any of your friends until this summer. And the way that I was "introduced" to your best friend was by means of a practical joke.
Don't get me wrong - I did laugh it off and thought it was hilarious that I got "punk'd." Until I sat down and thought about it: what were you two expecting to get out of that whole bit? Did you expect me to pull out some pepper spray and then haul ass out of that parking lot? Or maybe you thought I'd completely lose my shit and start begging for my life, throwing whatever I had at the "crackhead" so he'd leave me alone? "Oh please, Mr. Scary Crackhead Man, take my coat! Take my watch! Take my iPod! Take my cellphone! Take my wallet! Just don't hurt me! I'm too young to die!" Maybe I would have called the police only to look like an idiot in the end. Or I'd be naive enough to roll down the window all the way, door unlocked, and talk to that guy like I had no clue that I could possibly be in mortal peril. You probably didn't expect me to stay as calm as possible and think real hard before doing anything stupid. Otherwise, what would have been the reward for pulling off such a stunt? Ok, so I grew up in the suburbs. Can't apologize for it. I actually feel lucky that I got to grow up that way. But just because I've never lived in the ghetto doesn't mean I'm going to completely freak out when confronted with an unfamiliar situation. I'm not clueless.
If the roles had been reversed (me being the punk-er and you being the punk-ee), it would have looked just as bad. Probably worse. I would have looked like an evil-spirited bougie BAP picking on someone just because he didn't have it like I had it growing up. But I'm not shallow either.
I guess I'll never know how you truly saw me or what your true opinion was of me. By this point, if you're even reading this, you have every right to never want to speak to me ever again. Because breaking up with someone on the Internet is never the wisest thing to do, especially when all of the pent-up annoyances just explode onto a blog.
So I guess that's it for now. If there's anything else I need to get out of my system, you'll see it here. But the e-mail box is always open and the comments page was designed for rebuttals...so if the defense would like to make a statement, the floor is now open.
I figured since I've already opened my big fat mouth and started airing out all my grievances, I might as well get it all out there on the table, out of my system, and get as much of the picture painted for you as I can.
I realized the other day when we were out shopping that I've never met your mother. We've known each other for 5 years and I've only met one other person in your family. I've also never seen the inside of your home. I didn't meet any of your friends until this summer. And the way that I was "introduced" to your best friend was by means of a practical joke.
Don't get me wrong - I did laugh it off and thought it was hilarious that I got "punk'd." Until I sat down and thought about it: what were you two expecting to get out of that whole bit? Did you expect me to pull out some pepper spray and then haul ass out of that parking lot? Or maybe you thought I'd completely lose my shit and start begging for my life, throwing whatever I had at the "crackhead" so he'd leave me alone? "Oh please, Mr. Scary Crackhead Man, take my coat! Take my watch! Take my iPod! Take my cellphone! Take my wallet! Just don't hurt me! I'm too young to die!" Maybe I would have called the police only to look like an idiot in the end. Or I'd be naive enough to roll down the window all the way, door unlocked, and talk to that guy like I had no clue that I could possibly be in mortal peril. You probably didn't expect me to stay as calm as possible and think real hard before doing anything stupid. Otherwise, what would have been the reward for pulling off such a stunt? Ok, so I grew up in the suburbs. Can't apologize for it. I actually feel lucky that I got to grow up that way. But just because I've never lived in the ghetto doesn't mean I'm going to completely freak out when confronted with an unfamiliar situation. I'm not clueless.
If the roles had been reversed (me being the punk-er and you being the punk-ee), it would have looked just as bad. Probably worse. I would have looked like an evil-spirited bougie BAP picking on someone just because he didn't have it like I had it growing up. But I'm not shallow either.
I guess I'll never know how you truly saw me or what your true opinion was of me. By this point, if you're even reading this, you have every right to never want to speak to me ever again. Because breaking up with someone on the Internet is never the wisest thing to do, especially when all of the pent-up annoyances just explode onto a blog.
So I guess that's it for now. If there's anything else I need to get out of my system, you'll see it here. But the e-mail box is always open and the comments page was designed for rebuttals...so if the defense would like to make a statement, the floor is now open.
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