My last two lists were so popular, I decided to try another one.
#5. You don’t listen; you wait for your turn to talk.
You know you’re being a dick. I know you’re being a dick. You sit there staring, nodding, responding with monosyllable bullshit like, “Yeah,” and “Right.” Sometimes you repeat those words together in the same damn sentence. “Yeah, yeah. Right, right.” You’re still nodding. As soon as I take a breath, You’ve changed the topic to your own subject. You even try to blend the conversations. “Yeah, right, I get you, really I do. AIDS in Africa sucks. Like my vacuum cleaner. Did I tell you I broke my vacuum cleaner? No? Oh, that’s because my horse won at the track.” And away you go, like what you have to say is important, and I’m left waiting for my turn to talk.
#4. You change the radio station when it’s not your car.
If I’m blasting Kenny G, motherfucker, don’t touch my jams, yo! So what if someone’s giving out Miley Cyrus tickets on another channel? Do you hear that majestic-as-fuck clarinet? Don’t touch my dial. I know you have a smart phone, dick. Everyone has one these days. Buy your radio hoggin’ ass some earbuds, make like Eminem, and lose yourself. Oh, and about those Miley tickets… the show was cancelled. She caught lockjaw from a sledgehammer. Go figure.
#3. You leave three potato chips in the bottom of the bag.
Who do you think you’re fooling? We all know why you did it. You didn’t want to be the douchenozzle responsible for eating the last of the chips. But ask yourself this. What if you strolled into your bathroom, dropped a big, sturdy turd in your porcelain throne, only to reached for the TP and find a single sheet clinging from the roll like Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger? Yes it is the same thing. You felt all good after emptying your compactor (like me seeing there was some chips left), and now that you want to wipe your ass like a decent human being (like me pulling open the bag, mouth all ready for some salty goodness) you find yourself having to duck-walk down the hall for another roll (like me angrily stomping out of the house so I can go buy some more bleeding chips). Don’t be a dick. Finish the bag and go buy me some more. I promise to change the roll next time if you do.
#2. You’re one of those people double parked in an aisle at the grocery store.
Yo, dick, get out of the way. Ass panda and you are not as skinny as you think you are. My mother-in-law’s disabled, and she can’t get past your shopping cart tailgating party. We shouldn’t have to go around you just because you two want to catch up. Oh, Aunt Matilda finally married one of her cats? You don’t say? Here’s me giving a shit. I said excuse me twice, but both of you want to play Helen Keller in this piece. Times like this I wish I were your proctologist, and C4 suppositories were a thing.
#1. You’re prolife, you believe in the sanctity of marriage, or feel superior to people with differing skin tones.
I jumbled all these together because people who follow one of these rules usually believe in all three. Let’s make this easy. Prolife? It’s not your body. Homophobe? If you don’t want to marry the same sex, don’t do it. Racist? The only difference between any of us is blood type, and that only matters if your ass needs a transplant of some kind.
And here we are, dick. Your turn to talk.