Watch Out, She's Gonna Blow
Be careful when you ask me for an update. This is what you'll get
Ever watch Seinfeld? You probably have, whether you wanted to or not. Remember that one episode about the way George and his family celebrate the holiday season? You know, Festivas.
Ladies and Gentleman, pretend it’s Xmas again.
Prepare yourselves for the Outing of Grievances.
First, let me introduce myself. My real name is Shona. I live in Sarnia. I’m 24 (to be 25 in April) with a fairly decent job. I have a great boyfriend, Matt, and a cute cat and a home I’m really proud of. I have some good friends, and some really crappy ones. None of you are safe.
My family has been more than decent and have been there when I really needed help, financially or emotionally. None of you are safe, either.
Let me begin.
I am generous with my time and my money. I rarely ask for anything in return. But, when I do, please fucking do it. I shouldn’t have to plead or beg or manipulate the situation.
If I pay for your drinks some nights, or take you on road trips, please fucking offer to help out with the finances for the next night out. Don’t just sit there and whine how you don’t have money for a beer then not say thank you when I buy one for you. Don’t expect that Matt and I will take you to London for the weekend then not expect $5 in gas once in a while. Oh, and when I stop doing all that because I have bills of my own, don’t just immediately stop calling me because I’m no longer of any financial use to you. Also, if you are that pathetic, don’t call me your friend anymore because it sounds nice and makes you feel less guilty. Because I’m not.
It’s not just money, either. It’s all the emotional crap too. Don’t say you love me if you don’t. Due to people like you saying it flippantly like you’re handing out compliments and candy, “those three words” have lost their much-need value in society and mean a hell of a lot less to people who really should feel loved. Why? Because everyone deserves to feel loved, damnit. Even if it’s not that dramatic, romantic love that Romeo and Juliet sacrificed themselves for, it’s still fucking worth it. It’s like food and water to the emotionally starved. There are different kinds of love, yes. Don’t make each and every single one rotten.
Also, please don’t just say it and make me try to believe it if your actions don’t reflect it whatsoever. If I show my love by doing things you make you happy, please do it in return. Oh, and if I say to you that, “I love you,” don’t “Wubba,” me back. You either love me or you don’t. Fucking deal with the situation at hand and be honest.
Honesty? Oh, darling, how could I forget you too!? If I ask you to make plans with me that night and you’re tired or you want alone time, please say so. Don’t say you’ll be over around 8ish or 9ish or wheneverISH. If I make plans with you for wine and a movie, and you know I’m going out to buy both in time for our plans at ISHtime, please fucking SHOW UP. Don’t ditch me to watch TV or go out with your boyfriend and not bother calling me back. If I call you the next day to see why you didn’t show, don’t even bother fucking telling me you fell asleep. Why? There’s this thing called an alarm clock. I set it to wake me up when I have to be somewhere later. They sell them in stores. FUCKING BUY ONE, read the instructions and use the mother -fucker. It’s not difficult. Even for you.
Again, honesty. Expect a lot more of it from me in the future. I think some people need a reminder of it's meaning.
Don’t call me family, then make me always the last person to find out about your bad times.
Don’t call me your best friend, when you treat me like your sugar mama or your bitch.
Don’t call me acquaintance, if you can’t remember my name.
Don’t call me your lover and tell me that you want to spend the rest of your life with me, then say you’ll never want to marry me.
Don’t call me Shona if you pronounce it like Shawna. It’s not my name. My name is Shona. Again, Shona. Like Show-nuh. I don’t call you Johnifer or Mickle or Asslay.
Don’t flirt with me if you’re a girl and not interested. As someone who likes girls, it’s really fucking confusing.
Don’t come to me and agree with everything I say here, then pull one of the damned stunts that I mentioned earlier.
If you are going to be anything to me:
Don’t lie.
Don’t steal.
Don’t cheat.
Don’t promise anything you can’t give me.
I am:
Honest
Respectable
Loving
Caring
Genuine
Romantic
Sympathetic
Not going to take your blue-in-the-face bullshit anymore.
I’m sorry guys, but I’m just sick of the selfishness. I’m sick of those who put themselves before others when it’s not a matter of survival. What happened to caring for someone genuinely and being a friend to the end? I don’t care how fucking sappy I sound. I miss love of many kinds, I miss someone smiling when they see me, I miss people calling to see how I am.
Think back to every death in your lifetime. What’s the number one regret? That they didn’t tell that person they were loved enough. It’s true.
Sparky I love you in “that way.”
My close friends who read all this and know I’m not talking about them, I love you in that “friend” way.
Am I dying? No. Why wait until then?
Ever watch Seinfeld? You probably have, whether you wanted to or not. Remember that one episode about the way George and his family celebrate the holiday season? You know, Festivas.
Ladies and Gentleman, pretend it’s Xmas again.
Prepare yourselves for the Outing of Grievances.
First, let me introduce myself. My real name is Shona. I live in Sarnia. I’m 24 (to be 25 in April) with a fairly decent job. I have a great boyfriend, Matt, and a cute cat and a home I’m really proud of. I have some good friends, and some really crappy ones. None of you are safe.
My family has been more than decent and have been there when I really needed help, financially or emotionally. None of you are safe, either.
Let me begin.
I am generous with my time and my money. I rarely ask for anything in return. But, when I do, please fucking do it. I shouldn’t have to plead or beg or manipulate the situation.
If I pay for your drinks some nights, or take you on road trips, please fucking offer to help out with the finances for the next night out. Don’t just sit there and whine how you don’t have money for a beer then not say thank you when I buy one for you. Don’t expect that Matt and I will take you to London for the weekend then not expect $5 in gas once in a while. Oh, and when I stop doing all that because I have bills of my own, don’t just immediately stop calling me because I’m no longer of any financial use to you. Also, if you are that pathetic, don’t call me your friend anymore because it sounds nice and makes you feel less guilty. Because I’m not.
It’s not just money, either. It’s all the emotional crap too. Don’t say you love me if you don’t. Due to people like you saying it flippantly like you’re handing out compliments and candy, “those three words” have lost their much-need value in society and mean a hell of a lot less to people who really should feel loved. Why? Because everyone deserves to feel loved, damnit. Even if it’s not that dramatic, romantic love that Romeo and Juliet sacrificed themselves for, it’s still fucking worth it. It’s like food and water to the emotionally starved. There are different kinds of love, yes. Don’t make each and every single one rotten.
Also, please don’t just say it and make me try to believe it if your actions don’t reflect it whatsoever. If I show my love by doing things you make you happy, please do it in return. Oh, and if I say to you that, “I love you,” don’t “Wubba,” me back. You either love me or you don’t. Fucking deal with the situation at hand and be honest.
Honesty? Oh, darling, how could I forget you too!? If I ask you to make plans with me that night and you’re tired or you want alone time, please say so. Don’t say you’ll be over around 8ish or 9ish or wheneverISH. If I make plans with you for wine and a movie, and you know I’m going out to buy both in time for our plans at ISHtime, please fucking SHOW UP. Don’t ditch me to watch TV or go out with your boyfriend and not bother calling me back. If I call you the next day to see why you didn’t show, don’t even bother fucking telling me you fell asleep. Why? There’s this thing called an alarm clock. I set it to wake me up when I have to be somewhere later. They sell them in stores. FUCKING BUY ONE, read the instructions and use the mother -fucker. It’s not difficult. Even for you.
Again, honesty. Expect a lot more of it from me in the future. I think some people need a reminder of it's meaning.
Don’t call me family, then make me always the last person to find out about your bad times.
Don’t call me your best friend, when you treat me like your sugar mama or your bitch.
Don’t call me acquaintance, if you can’t remember my name.
Don’t call me your lover and tell me that you want to spend the rest of your life with me, then say you’ll never want to marry me.
Don’t call me Shona if you pronounce it like Shawna. It’s not my name. My name is Shona. Again, Shona. Like Show-nuh. I don’t call you Johnifer or Mickle or Asslay.
Don’t flirt with me if you’re a girl and not interested. As someone who likes girls, it’s really fucking confusing.
Don’t come to me and agree with everything I say here, then pull one of the damned stunts that I mentioned earlier.
If you are going to be anything to me:
Don’t lie.
Don’t steal.
Don’t cheat.
Don’t promise anything you can’t give me.
I am:
Honest
Respectable
Loving
Caring
Genuine
Romantic
Sympathetic
Not going to take your blue-in-the-face bullshit anymore.
I’m sorry guys, but I’m just sick of the selfishness. I’m sick of those who put themselves before others when it’s not a matter of survival. What happened to caring for someone genuinely and being a friend to the end? I don’t care how fucking sappy I sound. I miss love of many kinds, I miss someone smiling when they see me, I miss people calling to see how I am.
Think back to every death in your lifetime. What’s the number one regret? That they didn’t tell that person they were loved enough. It’s true.
Sparky I love you in “that way.”
My close friends who read all this and know I’m not talking about them, I love you in that “friend” way.
Am I dying? No. Why wait until then?