My Friend is Gross and I Hate Him
I have a friend. I’ve known him since seventh grade. If I met him for the first time today, I would not become his friend. He is vile and disgusting. I spent some time with him last night.
This past Wednesday, I had the day off from work so I spent the day raking leaves. My town has leaf pickup, so I just raked them all into a huge pile on the edge of my front lawn. My friend, because he has a problem with critical thinking, thought that it would be okay for him to park his car IN this pile of leaves. It wasn’t that he was trying to be funny or get my goat or anything, it’s just that he thought it was an acceptable thing to do.
I greeted him at my door and asked him what the hell he was doing. He acted as if I was a jerk for making a big deal about it. Then I noticed he was wearing a John Dear polo shirt. With shorts. In November. In Connecticut. He told me that it only cost him $3.50. I told him that he paid $3.50 to look like an asshole. I guess that was kind of mean but he had just parked his car in a huge pile of leaves and refused to move it.
So we went inside and started to play Beatles Rock Band. My friend is a musician. He has rhythm and is coordinated enough to play a real guitar, yet he flat out REFUSES to even try to play the fake guitar. He just wants to sing. All night. And not let me have any fun singing because he’s an irrational dick. So we are in the middle of playing Golden Slumbers and he has a disgusting smoker’s coughing fit. Instead of, you know, covering his mouth with his hand, he continues to hold the mic in front of his mouth. I could actually see the spit and phlegm flying out of his obese, pock-marked face and landing on the same microphone that my two year old son uses to sing Yellow Submarine. I told him he was fucking disgusting and, once again, I was made out to be the jerk for calling him out. I told him that he wasn’t allowed to play anymore and wiped the mic down with a disinfectant wet wipe. I needed a coffee so we took a ride to Dunkin Donuts.
I parked my car in the parking lot. I had just recorded a new song and I wanted to play it for him. The car was idling while we were listening. All of the sudden, my whole car started shaking as if it were having engine problems or something. I found this troubling because I had just taken my car into the shop and paid a hefty bill to get the suspension fixed. Then I realized that it wasn’t the engine after all. It was my friend. He stuck his finger in his ear and was shaking it so violently that the entire car was moving. I asked him, “what the fuck?” He said he had an itch in his ear. “Probably because of his mom’s cats.” I didn’t know what the hell that was supposed to mean but I had a feeling that he had some flea larvae gestating in his inner ear.
We got out of the car and went into Dunkin Donuts. He ordered his coffee and THEN told me he didn’t have any money. We sat down at a table and started talking about the conspiracy theories that he reads about (and believes) on the internet. Throughout the entire conversation, he kept itching his scalp and then smelling his two fingers. Again, I asked him, “what the fuck?” Again, I was a jerk for calling him out. He had a fungus growing on his head. So what? Why was I picking on him? That’s when I decided it was time for him to go home and for me to go to bed.
We got back into my car and started to drive back to my house. Of course he couldn’t sit like a normal human being while riding in my car. Instead, he sat cross-legged and scuffed his filthy shoes all over my glove box and dashboard. He actually left black marks all aver my tan interior. Then he spilled his coffee (that I paid for) all over his John Dear shirt and my floorboard. It was all I could do to not punch him right in his fuck face.
We arrived at my house and he asked if he could come in for a little bit longer. He likes to impose, you see. I told him “fuck no” and that I had to get some sleep. So he got into his car and drove away, leaving a trail of leaves all the way down my street. As I walked up my drive way, I noticed that he had left his coffee in my car. With the cover off. And coffee dripping all down the sides of the cup and into my cup holder.
I fucking hate him. This story is 100% TRUE.
This past Wednesday, I had the day off from work so I spent the day raking leaves. My town has leaf pickup, so I just raked them all into a huge pile on the edge of my front lawn. My friend, because he has a problem with critical thinking, thought that it would be okay for him to park his car IN this pile of leaves. It wasn’t that he was trying to be funny or get my goat or anything, it’s just that he thought it was an acceptable thing to do.
I greeted him at my door and asked him what the hell he was doing. He acted as if I was a jerk for making a big deal about it. Then I noticed he was wearing a John Dear polo shirt. With shorts. In November. In Connecticut. He told me that it only cost him $3.50. I told him that he paid $3.50 to look like an asshole. I guess that was kind of mean but he had just parked his car in a huge pile of leaves and refused to move it.
So we went inside and started to play Beatles Rock Band. My friend is a musician. He has rhythm and is coordinated enough to play a real guitar, yet he flat out REFUSES to even try to play the fake guitar. He just wants to sing. All night. And not let me have any fun singing because he’s an irrational dick. So we are in the middle of playing Golden Slumbers and he has a disgusting smoker’s coughing fit. Instead of, you know, covering his mouth with his hand, he continues to hold the mic in front of his mouth. I could actually see the spit and phlegm flying out of his obese, pock-marked face and landing on the same microphone that my two year old son uses to sing Yellow Submarine. I told him he was fucking disgusting and, once again, I was made out to be the jerk for calling him out. I told him that he wasn’t allowed to play anymore and wiped the mic down with a disinfectant wet wipe. I needed a coffee so we took a ride to Dunkin Donuts.
I parked my car in the parking lot. I had just recorded a new song and I wanted to play it for him. The car was idling while we were listening. All of the sudden, my whole car started shaking as if it were having engine problems or something. I found this troubling because I had just taken my car into the shop and paid a hefty bill to get the suspension fixed. Then I realized that it wasn’t the engine after all. It was my friend. He stuck his finger in his ear and was shaking it so violently that the entire car was moving. I asked him, “what the fuck?” He said he had an itch in his ear. “Probably because of his mom’s cats.” I didn’t know what the hell that was supposed to mean but I had a feeling that he had some flea larvae gestating in his inner ear.
We got out of the car and went into Dunkin Donuts. He ordered his coffee and THEN told me he didn’t have any money. We sat down at a table and started talking about the conspiracy theories that he reads about (and believes) on the internet. Throughout the entire conversation, he kept itching his scalp and then smelling his two fingers. Again, I asked him, “what the fuck?” Again, I was a jerk for calling him out. He had a fungus growing on his head. So what? Why was I picking on him? That’s when I decided it was time for him to go home and for me to go to bed.
We got back into my car and started to drive back to my house. Of course he couldn’t sit like a normal human being while riding in my car. Instead, he sat cross-legged and scuffed his filthy shoes all over my glove box and dashboard. He actually left black marks all aver my tan interior. Then he spilled his coffee (that I paid for) all over his John Dear shirt and my floorboard. It was all I could do to not punch him right in his fuck face.
We arrived at my house and he asked if he could come in for a little bit longer. He likes to impose, you see. I told him “fuck no” and that I had to get some sleep. So he got into his car and drove away, leaving a trail of leaves all the way down my street. As I walked up my drive way, I noticed that he had left his coffee in my car. With the cover off. And coffee dripping all down the sides of the cup and into my cup holder.
I fucking hate him. This story is 100% TRUE.