Tuesday, May 29, 2007

How to lose friends and piss people off

So I pretty much hate people in general. Not specifically so much, more of an overall dislike of the masses.

And it’s nice when my hatred is reaffirmed by specific examples. Ridiculous, unbelievable things that don’t happen to normal people happen to me. Being “normal” might have something to do with it.

I previously wrote about how a Greek job website listed “Jewish” as a language and I thought that was funny. I also posted something very similar on a Jewish website I joined, which has my full name, my picture, my location, blah blah fucking blah.

As with most of my posts, someone from Greece decided to write me a ten paragraph diatribe about what a jerk I am, how bigoted I am to dare say something negative about the Greek culture, how utterly irresponsible I am to say such things, and to generally just shut my mouth. All anonymously, of course.

Since I’m rather experienced at dealing with these charming people who clearly have fulfilling, well-rounded lives, I decided to be nice and explain that I really didn’t mean any harm and it was all written in good fun.

Thank goodness for me, Ms. Anonymous was gracious enough to forgive my unforgivable behavior of criticizing her obviously superior culture, and she proceeded over the span of approximately two months to try to make friends with me through this Jewish website via numerous emails and helpful “hints” on how to get on here. I figured, better to be polite to Anonymous-Nasty-Comment-Leavers because those bitches are crazy.

Turns out, Anonymous-Nasty-Comment-Leaver is NOT some random woman here in Greece. Oh no, ANCL is actually my former college roommate; yeah, not only roommate, but best friend. We lost touch a few years ago and on a whim, she decided to Google me.

And once she found me and didn’t like what I wrote, she joined the Jewish website (she’s not Jewish), created a fake profile, wrote me a nasty comment, and then spent two months ANONYMOUSLY writing me and trying to be friends again before admitting who she really was.

Who does shit like that?!?! Um, Anonymous-Nasty-Comment-Leaver crazy bitches! Of course, I was so excited to finally get back in touch with her, I decided to make our reunion really poignant by telling her to take her crazy bitch self and FUCK OFF. I hate everybody.

Tuesday, May 15, 2007

Stupid is as Stupid Does; Hi, my name is Stupid

So there’s something disconcerting about being in someone else’s territory all the time, but that’s what happens when you move to another country to shack up with your boyfriend.

You have no memories of your own in that place, no restaurants you went to with friends, no vacation spots, no street corners you slow danced on with boys, no ex’s to run into.

Thing is, the person you’re with DOES have all of those things, and I don’t have a problem with most of those things. Except the ex thing. I don’t want to be anywhere near an ex, because let’s be honest, it’s not comfortable being in the same room with a woman who knows what your boyfriend’s kisses are like, or, to be more honest, knows what it feels like to have his penis inside of her.

Imagine how disappointing to find out you have to go to a wedding attended by an ex. And not just any ex, but The Ex Ex, The One Whose Name Shall Never Be Uttered Unless You Want Your Face to Melt Off Ex.

But I had a game plan, which has served me well in the past, it’s called Avoidance. Good plan, perfect plan, WHEN YOU KNOW WHICH GIRL TO ACTUALLY AVOID.

But, if you’re an idiot like me, you spend half the night avoiding an entire section of the room, and pointing out who you MISTAKENLY believe is The Ex to girls you know, only to end up in the bathroom, unknowingly chatting up The Actual Ex for TEN MINUTES. The Ex who knows very well that you are the current Keeper of the Penis she once knew so well.

And you’re not understanding why your boyfriend’s cousins are staring at you like you’re insane for speaking to what seems like a perfectly normal girl, and not a woman purportedly capable of ripping the heads off her young, dicing them up and serving them as an aphrodisiac to Hitler and Genghis Khan before enjoying an ass-to-mouth gang-bang.

The sad thing is I probably wouldn’t recognize her again unless she walked up to me and said, “His penis does feel really good. Enjoy my leftovers.” Which I’ve been told is just like her. It’s important to wake up everyday with something to look forward to.

Thursday, May 10, 2007

The "Cradle of Civilization" has some 'splaining to do

So I’m looking for work in Greece. And of course, in today’s job market everything is on-line. Fill this out, check these boxes, pick any of the following that apply, blah blah fucking blah.

Ah, the languages section. Please select all languages that apply, use the “ctrl” key to select more than one. OK, “English,” check. Um, Farsi, Farsi? No, no Farsi. OK, next, Hebrew, where’s Hebrew….German, Greek, Italian. What, no Hebrew? Really? Italian, Japanese, Jewish, Norwegian…wait a minute, did I just read that right? JEWISH?! As a language category on a job hunting site?

We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto.

What the hell is Jewish as a language?

Do they mean Jewish, as in the Language of Guilt and Nagging as Perfected by the Matriarch for the past 5000 years? Maybe they mean Jewish, as in the annoying, “Oh. My. Gawd!” you hear all over the streets of New York. Or, maybe they mean the secret language Jews use when we’re busy killing Christian babies and using their blood for our Matzo during Passover. A Greek actually accused me that that's what really goes on, and I shouldn't try to deny it. The Cradle of Civilization indeed, my friends.

By the way, you're all invited to my house next year for not-so-secret Christian baby-blood Matzo. It's a family recipe perfected by my ancestors, I swear, you'll love it!

Wednesday, May 09, 2007

Glutton for Punishment

So I decided, rather idiotically, to attempt ONE FINAL FORAY into Athens in the hopes of making some friends.

I invited everyone EVERYONE, all 200 members-everyone, of my ex-pat group to Friday afternoon coffee in my very cute part of town.

Email replies galore, “Sure, I can meet you at 3”, “I get out of work at 5, so I can be there at 6”, “I’ll be there….can’t wait.”

Based on the numerous and varied responses, I set the time for 5, figuring those who wanted to come earlier can come at five, and we can chat until those who could make it later would arrive.

By the way, it’s a good idea to make sure you’re on speaking terms with your boyfriend (the only person you know) when you decide to invite over 200 people to meet you for a cup of coffee.

Because when you’re sitting alone, FOR OVER AN HOUR, waiting PATHETICALLY for people who are CLEARLY NOT COMING, you would have at least one person to beg to join you so that you don’t look like the OBVIOUS LOSER YOU ARE.

I’ll remember that for the next time I try to set up coffee, which will be the third Friday of NEVER.