Sterner & Rogier, LLC

In the last week, two people have friend requested me on Facebook.  The only thing that makes this situation unique is the fact they’re people who I have history with…and not the good kind.

I’ve been noticing a trend with social networking sites.  They act, for some people, as the proverbial “white flag”.  For instance, I have ‘issues’ with a select group of people I’m friends with on Facebook, meaning I do not consider them friends or friendly acquaintances.  Normally I would delete these fuckers, but I am lazy and, more importantly, still have a sliver of hope these assholes will come to their senses and we’ll all be friends again. That’s my version of the white flag: hey…we’re still internet friends.  Maybe one day we can be REAL FRENZ again.  Well, once you realize you’re a cockgargling cuntsmotherer and apologize for it.

I do not, however, actively look up or add people I’ve had serious issues with as my fucking ‘friends’ on FB, or anywhere else for that matter.

Case in point: friend request 1.  Seeing this dude’s name on my feed was akin to seeing a piece of trash you threw away four years ago pop back up on your porch.  I used to work with this guy, back at my old job.  He took quite a fancy to yours truly, and while he certainly wasn’t bad looking, he just wasn’t my type.  We went out to lunch a few times and dinner once…dinner is where it really became apparant he was a douche because all he did was roll his eyes at me and make snarky comments.  This is called “I really like this chick but I can tell she’s not into me, so I’ll follow the Rules of Bro and act like an asshole, because chicks can’t resist that shit.” Yeah, maybe when you’re in 9th grade, Jason Francisco. Anyhoo, after that night, I blew him off and he started writing me letters and shit, telling me my “heart was a closed door” and that he was going to “wait on the porch” until I opened it and invited him in.

HARDCORELOLZ

That shit didn’t work, either, and I kind of forgot about him until people at work started asking me, incredulously, what I saw in Jason.  Say wha? Oh yes, he had been and was telling people that even though he “had a girlfriend”, I just couldn’t get enough of his love (read: penis) and would come over and fuck him any chance I got.

FOR SURE

I laughed this off because rumors amuse me (after all, I’ve been dealing with them for so many years I typically find them almost flattering…really?  You think about me so much you have the time to make shit up about me?  How cute!) and also, this was work we’re talking about, not the playground.  He was talking to people who didn’t have any clout, so I didn’t feel like it needed to be addressed.  However, when it got to the point that it was being brought up EVERY DAY by MULTIPLE PEOPLE who told me explicity I NEEDED TO ADDRESS THE ISSUE, I finally decided to make Jason Francisco Eat a Bag of Dicks.

I sent him an email, at work, saying I was getting pretty tired of being asked multiple times a day if I was sleeping with him.  I said I didn’t have a problem letting this all go if he would only admit to me, in the email, that we were not and had never slept together and apologize. If he chose to disregard the issues I was addressing, I had no course of action except to talk to Human Resources…which I REALLY didn’t want to do. He, of course, refused and pretended like he had no idea what I was talking about.  I gave him one more chance which he refused and went to HR.

Unlike most Human Resource managers, Eve wasn’t a retarded weirdo and thought my story was hilarious and applauded me for having the balls to bring it up to Jason Francisco and give him a chance to rectify the issue before I went and tattled.  I mean, really: I’m the last broad who would tell on anyone about almost anything, let alone “rumors” about me fucking someone.  Long story short, I opted to have her speak to his manager and supervisor (as opposed to him alone…he asked for it) and he left his position shortly thereafter all of the drama and I haven’t heard from him since.

Until…FACEBOOK!

Friend request 2 is some guy who is an even bigger douche, if you can believe it.  That story is slightly less LOL inducing and involves a drug deal gone wrong, everyone blaming me, this guy getting mad I dated his best friend, then making my life a living hell for a year and a half.

The question is…why are these mongers trying to friend me on the world of the interwebs?!

Being someone’s Facebook or MySpace or LiveJournal or Tumblr or fucking whatever “friend” does not certainly make you their actual, In Real Life, friend.  We all know this.  I highly doubt these dudes are thinking this is their chance to reconnect with me or whatever.  They’re probably bored and are the types who treat Facebook like the old MySpace…as an account where you gather as many friends as humanly possible and then never talk to any of them.  But still…this kind of shit makes me wonder.  Why go out of your way to remind someone who doesn’t like you of your existance?

People.

*God I hope it’s not to get on my awesome blog

Anyway, Molly. Sorry, but you should have been more interesting and you definitely should not have made me come in my hand.  You are on fucking birth control, for Christ’s sake, and like— she specifically instructed me not to come on her— I wasn’t planning on blowing it all over her face or anything but i had to grip my helmet tightly and painfully to prevent cum from spraying all over the place.  This is ridiculous.  I hate how’s she’s so squeamish about basic sex acts, like— she won’t suck dick.  She’s really cute and she can be really cool but also, you know, she used to be fat and is really Jewy looking and so is still insecure about her appearance, who knows.

Brooke. Brooke, I am sorry, I know you like me, and I am blowing you off.  I must have been the fucking catch of the century for you, and I don’t mean that in a self-aggrandizing way.  I mean that in a way demeaning of you. I wanted to go out with you because you are nineteen years old, and that made me hot, but what kind of fucking nineteen year old has saggy boobs.  Apparently you used to be fat.  Well, get fat again.  And you live in a squalid, filthy studio in long beach and have no car, and when I sleep over it’s on a goddamn pullout sofa bed with a fucking— trying to think of a funny word for steel bar— whatever, with a  steel bar pinioning you in the middle, or on your roommate’s brick-hard little futon-couch.  And when you come to visit me I have to go pick you up at the train station, and then drop you off- no. Find yourself a nice local boy. 

Adelina.  Adelina, you are a tough nut to crack.  I fuck you once, I ask you out, actually I look for you at Fuck Yeah Fest and then ask you over to dinner; both times you don’t hang out with me.  Then Leah invites me over saying you want to see me, which- great. You are goddamn beautiful.  I fuck you again.  But then I ask you out again, like, in the car dropping you off I say we should go on a date, and you are unenthusiastic, and then later I ask you out again, and you say you can’t— and then, what?  Do you want me to just fuck you?  That would be fine!  But God forbid you should just say that.  Anyway, now I lost your number so that’s that. God, what other girls, Leeanne- who else.  Before that it was Emily, right?  Am I missing any other Okcupid girls?  There was a another girl, Jen P., I didn’t fuck her—- I feel like I’m missing someone. Who was before that?  That gobliny-looking chick who knows Josh.  Big tits.  I feel like there was another Mexican chick in there.  Was it Diana before her?  Jesus Christ, I can’t even remember- I know there’s a chick I fucked in there somewhere that I’m not remembering.  That’s horrible.  Leeanne was like right after the Fourth of July.  Was Diana after her?  Harper was before that.  Emily; Emily was a good month, the chick who was looking for casual sex on Okcupid who sent me pictures of her butthole, who used to date drug dealers and whore for them, who starred in porn.  Who I actually liked and hung out with a lot but when I finally introduced you to my friends you were retarded.  But you live nearby, just like Adelina.  Jesus, who else.  I’ll need to go through my Okcupid messages.

Never going to meet a nice girl.  I need to hire hot interns.  I need to hire hot interns and make sure they don’t have boyfriends.  That’s it.  I don’t give a fuck if they’re qualified or not, I am going to hire based solely on facebook picture and relationship status.  Because work is the only length of time when I’m forced to be around someone, and in fact have authority over them and a long flirtation can slowly build up where eventually we’re together when we’re both drunk and we fuck.  And it would make work fun again— I wouldn’t be dreading coming into the goddamn office every morning. It would solve two problems.

It still takes me too long to type. Still too long. The left hand is still uncoordinated.  Typing the word “uncoordinated” takes so long that I could have thought of several sentences.  Also words like “several” and “sentences.”  Words that have the majority of their letters in the left hand.  Why is this. Why are “s” and “e” and “r” on the left fucking hand when fucking 95% of the population is right handed.  The keyboard was designed by a left handed person.  The fucking “j” and “k” are right underneath your right middle finger, arguably the most powerful, coordinated finger.  The most dextrous finger.  While “s,” “e,” “r,” “c” and “d” are under a useless frozen club suitable only for pinning meat down with a fork while you cut it.

Parking enforcement

People who walk really slowly across crosswalks when there is obviously no physical reason for them to do so

People in Starbucks who wait until the last minute to stare at the menu endlessly

Creed, the band

Anyone who writes for Cosmo