[DISCLAIMER]: This blog is intended for entertainment purposes only and not meant to defame or discredit anyone. Any similarities between anyone specific is purely coincidental. If you take issue with the way anyone is portrayed, perhaps take a long look at how you treat other human beings and stop being an asshole. Thank you.
I’m going to share a deep, dark secret about people in the retail industry: a lot of people who leave them are super entitled with mismanaged expectations and so the rest of them aren’t taken very seriously by anyone who actually works with the public at your favorite store. In fact, some of them wouldn’t mind reviewing you, the customer.
That thought gave me an idea — why couldn’t I write reviews about people that may exist. So, here they are:
“Worst 5th Grade Teacher Ever!”
I don’t know who gave this lady the idea that being a teacher was her destiny, but I can only imagine that it was because she sucked out loud at everything else and teaching was the one thing that she sucked the least at. This lady’s people skills suck so bad that when she has kids, the nurse is going to have to make sure that she doesn’t actually eat her young. The lesson plans were boring, uninspired actually. The only way the nine months that I spent with this woman could have been any more painful would be if I had been pregnant.
“I’d Rather Let Casey Anthony Babysit Than Be Married To This Woman Again”
If I hadn’t just blown the entire budget of a third world country on attorneys, I’d sue this woman for bait and switch practices. The relationship started out great: she pretends to like the things I like, pretends to like the same music, and then as soon as two months salary is on her finger everything changes. All of a sudden Ultimate Fighting is stupid and the bands I listen to sound like elevator music. We start fighting about things like “Why isn’t our marriage like the one on the Notebook?” Trust me, if I could have given myself Dementia and forgot about her most of the day, I would have. Eventually, she finds herself a boyfriend and starts cheating — I used to want to kick her boyfriend’s ass, but now I really just want to kiss that poor som’bitch on the mouth and thank him for delivering me from Satan’s clutches! She’s his problem now!
“Greatest Mailman Ever!”
When you think about the unsung heroes of the world, the first one that comes to mind is my mailman, Chuck. Chuck walks for miles and miles no matter the weather. I have seen that man deliver mail in heat that would have dropped a camel and up to his balls in flood water! Since the asshats at the hospital decided to spell my name wrong and completely write down the wrong address, I could have missed a bill that would have prison sexed my credit into a hole, but Chuck knew who it belonged to and delivered without waiting for a thank you. Long live Chuck the Mailman!
“Kind of a Dick, but a Maestro on the Grill!”
As a neighbor, Jimmy is kind of a dick. Not “If your dog comes on my lawn I’ll shoot it” kind of a dick, but more like a “Your grass is getting kind of long, hate to see the HOA give you a fine” kind of a dick. If the garbage cans are out on the curb too long, he’s sending an “anonymous tip” to the HOA, and if I am playing my music too loud one minute past the 10 PM curfew, he’s knocking on the door and griping about how he needs his sleep. Now, with all that said, Jimmy’s barbecues are amazing! The beer is always cold, the meat is always tender, and whatever sauce he puts on that meet is enough to produce tears. Jimmy could be harvesting his barbecue sauce from the bladders of endangered pygmy tigers and I’m not going to say a word about it. As a neighbor, 1 out of 5. As a party host, 5 out of 5. I’ll give him an average of 3 out of 5.
“He Tries Hard, But You Just Know He’s Not Going To Be Anything Special.”
My father had a sister and that sister had children. That is the brightest part of this story. I have been corrected so many times from calling Yancy “My Father’s Sister’s Son” that the word “Cousin” actually gives me flashbacks that drive me under the kitchen table in fear. Yancy is a good guy, I guess. He isn’t outwardly mean and its easy to keep him occupied with the detachable thumb trick, but its also hard to get him to stop going on diatribes about his conspiracy theories and how the government wants us to wear deodorant to mind control us. No Yancy, the government doesn’t want you to wear deodorant; I want you to wear deodorant, mostly because he smells like a Yeti that had been in a week-long gang-bang on a hot beach with no running water. I’ve tried paying Yancy’s sister to deactivate his Facebook account because of the mind-numbing bullshit that he posts — if its Islamophobic, it’s been on Yancy’s page. I’m told he had a job once; unless it was playing games on Facebook for money, I can’t imagine what it was. He did help me change a tire and move once, so, there’s that. At the end of the day: big heart, dehydrated brain cells.
Again, this was purely for entertainment and not pointed at anyone specific. But, also, please go out and be kind to people!
I’ll see you on your next trip across the Millerverse.