Sponge Gravy Judgy Pants

I don’t know what is wrong with me. Maybe it is a severe case of the Mondays that has extended itself for an additional 12 days but I have been on a limited bullshit tolerance like you wouldn’t believe and apparently find it very appropriate to call everyone out at a moment’s notice…via this blog, and other passive aggressive means, of course that nobody reads. Whatevs.

At some point, when this barrage of hysterics of mine is over, I will have to inevitably apologize to someone for being a complete asshole by not censoring myself. Ugh, I hate apologizing. I hate it almost as much as I hate the sight of blood which is the thing I hate the most (aside from creepy crawly things and being disappointed which is the WORST). It makes me want to vom and faint all at the same time while being totally disgusted. Where was I going with this? Ah yes, this is why I have decided that if I don’t have anything nice to say that I should keep that shiz to myself and not be so quick to judge people.*

Case in point: At a work 1:1 strategy session on Wednesday, that turned into happy hour, I may or may not have been mean to a boy that I found annoying for no apparent reason than the fact that he kinda looked and talked like my frat brothers…that and he was rooting for the US to win the football match…I heart the USA team (TEAM BEASLEY) as well but OBVI I was rooting for Mexico and did not appreciate the gauntlets from an unknown dude.

Okay, well to be fair, it was not obvi to anyone but myself that I was in fact rooting for Mexico as I was wearing work clothes and did not have any of my football riot gear on. And the only gauntlet really thrown was that when he asked for the score I said 0-1 US and he said “yeah!” like any normal American. To which I informed him he could sit somewhere else, to which he didn’t but tried to make amends by agreeing with me that American Football should be called handball.

Sidebar rant: I seriously don’t get WHY American Football is called football, seriously it should be throwball or carryball or something else since they don’t really play with their feet now do they? Then again they don’t really play at all…I mean what is the point? 30 seconds of action, 2 minutes of reviewing plays and measuring stuff, then 20 minutes of commercial…what is the opposite of awesome…ah yes American football…I digress.

Anyway after the football incident he kept up his incessant babble of nonsense to which I had to be completely disagreeable and snarky…you know because I could and all. Annoyed I finally turned to D and asked “who the f*** is this guy and why is he here?” To which she turns, laughs hysterically, and informs me that said guy is Tom and he works with us. Oh. Shiz. I am AWESOME!!!

In typical Gravy mode, I had managed to be incessantly mean for no apparent reason other than the fact that he kinda annoyed me for kinda being a little on the insecure side and thus compensating by being loud and agreeable with the mean girl in front of him chugging beers. Ugh, raise your hand if you are an asshole.

I mean I am not saying being mean to people is okay if you don’t know them. That’s not it at all, but a little tact goes a long way in work place situations. So then I decide that it would be in my best interest to be nice since I will eventually run into this guy again at some point and being the work bitch is never a good thing. Turns out Tom actually really enjoys football but prefers the premiership (a little cliché yes but who can blame him). He is an artist, a painter with a post-modernist approach, but works in PR to pay bills (I am an art freak, in particular in post modern work, Dale…are you kidding me?!?! BRILL!!! I even got married in an art museum). He lives in the South Bay by choice which I can appreciate since I heart the South Bay.

Also turns out that once he is not worried about what people think of him and acting a part he seems like he would be very nice. So maybe we had more in common that I thought. Had I taken a chance on an unknown kid from the beginning we could have been watching the game together instead of me rolling my eyes and making a poor chap uncomfortable. Sigh.

Queue in sappy music…So moral of the story: I will be open-minded and nice when I meet new people and hope it does not bite me in the ass.

This post is dedicated Lindsey Lohan

* For those who clicked the link, you are welcome.