Entry tags:

douchebags, livejournal, lost_cowboy, raven_wolf, writer's block

Writer's Block: How I got on LJ

Complete honesty always gets me in trouble.

So I'll be completely honest.

lost_cowboy, my ex-best friend, got his friend fagtastic to give me an LJ code in late May 2002 because I was always on the internets and at the time I had only dial-up, so it was keeping my phone line busy 24/7. LJ was our means of communication and keeping up with each other, but eventually Fagtastic got pissed off with me because I commented towards an argument that Fagtastic had pointed out as racism when in fact it was a simple (albeit simplistic) question regarding cultural differences (I believe the question was "Why do the black kids in my high school all smell like baby powder and coconuts?" or something, and me, being a frequent flier in the "ethnic haircare products section" (since the only stuff that works on my stiff, creepy part-Asian hair and doesn't leave plastic residue or dry it out is the "ethnic" haircare products like "Let's Jam!" and all the stuff that DOES smell like baby powder and coconuts*) horned in on all of the flaming of this poor kid who asked a simple question (I for one saw absolutely no evidence in her journal of being racist) and thus was labelled a racist or some shit and dropped from Fagtastic's journal. Which is fine, because I don't give a shit about Fat Activists of her brand--the type who cry and bemoan about the INJUSTICES OF THE WORLD when a fat, FAT (we're talking of culturalbaggage proportions here) person is made to purchase two airline seats because they take up two airline seats.

Tangent: You know, Fat Activists like that actually piss me off. I'm fat/overweight, yes, but I still take up only one seat on an airplane, and I understand the reasons WHY airlines charge for two seats. In 2002, Virgin Atlantic was forced to pay more than $20 grand to a woman who suffered blood clots, torn leg muscles and long-term physical pain after being squashed next to a really big fatass. During the 90s, the average gained by Americans was ten pounds and airlines spent $275 million to pay for 350 million extra gallons of fuel needed to keep planes in the sky--you know, because the heavier your fat ass is, the more gas is needed to keep your fat ass in the sky. FAT causes airline tickets to rise, too. (Both of those facts are quoted & paraphrased directly from the book I'm reading, The Race Card: How Bluffing about Bias Makes Race Relations Worse by Richard Thompson Ford...the FAT = MORE GAS statistic comes from "Economic and Environmental Costs of Obesity: The Impact on Airlines", American Journal of Preventative Medicine, 27, no.3).

But I digress. So LJ was a means for lost_cowboy and me to keep up with each other. Until I set him up with a paranoid pathological narcissist who couldn't help thinking that everything was about him, every time we had any fun without him it was a slight upon his precious existence and if we excluded him--however practically/logistically--that it meant that *I* didn't like him. Or if I ever showed any type of concern for anything in their lives, it was all about my supposed superiority over him. He threw tantrums--i.e., stomping around the apartment, slamming doors, exasperated sighs, pounding on doors, and just general douchebaggery--and there was always a reason, a "good reason" (in his mind, though he never really told us of such) for this shit behavior. Well, instead of showing spine and putting a foot down on this shit behavior, my best friend married the fucker. I don't give a crap what the reason(s) were or are for that, but the fact that this asshole's behavior never improved (or if it did, it was short-lived...the guy has a fuse the length of an ant's penis) was reason enough for me to say enough/the Hell with it and just...not want to deal with it anymore. This past year I spent too much time mourning real crises that to see some fucking douchebag treat my (then) best friend like utter shit (and to watch him take it) was just too much on top of everything else. I bade him well and basically told him that I--we, since it included Chelle--just wasn't comfortable watching this asshole treat him like shit all the time whenever we all were around each other. We get enough of that abused-housewife-I-can't-leave-him-because-I-love-him! crap from the movies we watch.

Still, even with everything I've been through, I can say that I have but one regret in my life, and that involves them. But I don't dwell on it, because there's nothing that can be done about it. Like the Energizer Bunny with health issues, I just keep going (so long as I've got my pain medication).

I remain here on LJ because during that entire time since 2002 I've made other friends, a couple of whom I've met offline. I seem to continue to make friends and contacts as well, which Chelle tells me is a good thing.

*For the record the "Let's Jam!" that I use smells like those yummy candy heart lollipops I used to get for Valentine's Day when I was a kid...the translucent red, pure corn syrup-type large heart-shaped ones. I truly miss the "Let's Jam!" hair pudding which was basically a purple pudding-like concoction that smelled the same (it came in a white container) as the stuff I use now, but was REALLY awesome when it came to actually styling my hair and keeping it sticking straight up (if I wanted it that way). I haven't been able to find it since I left Massachusetts. ):

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