PIFH #4: Petty people

Say the word ‘petty’ and watch every person engaged in the conversation go on and on about how much they can’t stand petty people. Ever notice that when you mention a negative attribute present in the majority of human beings (at least exercised at some point in life) every motherfucker in the room acts like it’s something they’ve never done. But as we all know this is a damn lie. I admit I’ve been petty at points in my life. Maybe a few times, but it has never been a staple in my personality.

I have never been a truly petty person. Not because I am better than other people, but because I never had the chance to. I was constantly surrounded by other petty, selfish, and vindictive assholes who exhibited this behavior so much that it made me sick. Made me sick every time I even thought about being petty even for a moment. You might be thinking I’m recalling a time from being a child and going to school. My school mates were assholes in their own right, but the most pettiness I’ve experienced in the 20-something years I’ve been on the planet has come from adults.

Fully grown.

Car driving.

Alcohol drinking.

Full-time job working…adults.

These are the motherfuckers who will notice you are wearing the same clothes from yesterday and ask you, in front of everyone, “weren’t you wearing that yesterday?” in the most innocent way like you don’t remember not changing your clothes.

They are the people who will do one thing for you and expect to be paid back in the exact amount they gave to you. If they helped you move an apartment a for a few hours on Saturday, that meal of appreciation is “nice” but you’re still in debt and they will surely bring it up at a later time.

They will argue with you down to the last penny over a split check because apparently there is a fucking huge difference between paying a couple dollars extra on time vs. paying the $21.43 you owe.

They will keep an argument going long after it should have ended regardless as to who started it because their ego tells them they have to have the last word.

They are the shameless fools who lack class in such a degree they will flinch back and grimace the moment in the conversation where your tongue hits the floor of your mouth an causes a drop of spit to come out. I once had some girl make the worst face at me when I accidentally got a little excited in the middle of a story and a drop of spit landed on her face. She halted the conversation and very sloooowly wiped it away as though it was Hitler’s vomit. I wouldn’t have been mad either if I knew she wasn’t someone who was used to taking loads on her face from men she just met.

Then, there are people like my grandmother who, despite being in her 50’s at the time, would do all kinds of petty shit to children. My single mother was poor (of course) and lazy growing up so we never had money for anything be it clothes, shoes, school supplies, food etc.  So every year, when the new school year was starting, we never had new uniforms. We always hate wear the same old shit from last year. Anyway, my grandmother would get clothing vouchers for my cousins (who she had custody of) for clothes, shoes, and supplies for school. After coming back from the store she would take all the bags into the living room. She would go through each on and pick out every item one by one, talk about it, show it to us, and fold it up. Every. single. item. I remember once she worked at a laundromat and we were there one day so we helped a man carry his cleaned laundry just across the way to his apartment a 2 minute walk away. He gave each of us a dollar. To kids that’s a good amount of money. Any way my grandmother made each of us give her a quarter because we “wouldn’t have gotten anything” without her. Had I been a different kind of person, this would have affected me much more negatively than it has. I understood at the time we were the only people she could feel better than because she had nothing else going in life to live up to other, more hard-working people.

There is only show much shit a human being can take from other people. I truly believe there is a built in meter within all of us. When I am present during an act of immature, selfish and unnecessarily disgusting pettiness from an adult I find myself wishing it was perfectly legal to just stand up, strike them in the mouth and then sit back down.

This is why I think that petty people can fuck off. They can fuck off in a house, with a mouse. They can fuck off here and over there. They can fuck off any and every where. They can fuck off and stay fucked-off because I disdain them.

–Quinny

PIFH# 2: Fat people who hate being called fat

fatwomandonuts

Then what the fuck are you? Don’t say fluffy either. If I cut you open do you think marshmallow fluff would come pouring out? A little bit extra? Extra what? Fries? That’s the only goddamn thing that’s extra about you and it’s fine. Live your life how ever the fuck you want. Eat as much as you want and exercise as little as you want. Believe me, I’m currently losing weight and while my height hides how much I need to lose, if you called me fat I wouldn’t exactly be offended.

If you’re American and I call you American, would you get offended? What if you graduated from an institution of higher learning and I said “Hey, you’re a college graduate”, would that send off your “offense taken” meter? I don’t think so, but the motherfucking moment I point out that you are lazily carrying around extra weight that you don’t see to be trying to get rid of I have to listen to your cake-eating ass try to shame me.

And let’s stop it with the fucking excuses too.

“I’ve always struggled with my weight.”

Since when has refusing to stop eating shit and go exercise been an insurmountable struggle?

“I don’t even eat that much.”

You do realize that it’s calories in, and calories out, right? You may not eat more than once a day but eating 4000 calories in one sitting is probably whats keeping your hippo-sized ass overweight. Your body is a direct reflection of how you treat it. You didn’t get that size by eating right and exercising strictly. This is a fact.

“Everyone in my family is this size. It’s genetic.”

So everyone in your family also eats like shit and that’s where you got it from? I’ve seen people with bodies that could never be small. Some people have huge frames with big torsos etc. But I’ve never met a person whose normal achievable weight was 100 pounds over what was ideal for their height. Maybe 110 and 5’1 is isn’t possible for you but I highly doubt 200 is the correct weight either.

I’m so fucking tired of having to bite my tongue and use all kinds of other euphemisms for fat other than just fucking saying fat. I’d like to know why calling you fat makes you feel worse about yourself than saying “more to love”. Why the hell is that? Are you still not 60 pounds overweight regardless as to what I call you? Do you still not put down 2 cakes and half a tub of ice cream a day because you’re now considered “big and beautiful” rather than just “fat as fuck”?

I can’t understand why people think it’s okay to police the words other people are allowed to use when the word in question describes you exactly as you are. People think that fat has negative connotation and it does. Mostly because human beings were not created to be overweight and even though fat people know this they continually try to deny it. Does it hurt your feeling that the human body operates at it’s best when it eats certain food and weighs a certain amount? Are you going to go eat the emotions that this fact brings about?

If you say “fat is beautiful”, I’d have to staple my hand to my side to prevent myself from the instant “slap an asshole” reaction. Are extremely rotted teeth beautiful? If you really believed that was true you wouldn’t have to go around saying it. You wouldn’t be on Facebook shaming a woman for staying in shape despite having multiple children. You wouldn’t bitch someones ears off for saying they preferred a person of a certain weight–usually not fat. You wouldn’t be avoiding mirrors at every turn because it forces you to acknowledge what you’ve done to yourself.

Let’s be honest for a moment. You don’t hate the word fat. You hate being fat.

Contrary to what most people think, I believe there are actual fat people out there who like it. There are people out there who want to gain the weight, accept the judgements that come with it, and only fuck around with other people who like and accept it. Those are the only people I feel sorry for. Sorry, not because of the judgements they get, but because they have to be affiliated with the rest of you losers.

“The rest of us?”, you ask?

The people who sit around day in day out eating snacks and watching TV and refusing to exercise. Then mustering up what little energy they’re okay with expending for the day to sign a petition to shut down some website, business, or TV show because a person dared to find you disgusting. The people who bitch, moan and groan that all other people get rid of any preferences they might have that doesn’t include a 500 pound beached whale with an affinity for chocolate fountains. The self-haters who, instead of just losing the weight to become more attractive, try and tear down anyone who is attractive and force our society as a whole to lower the bar.

You sluggish pieces of shit can fuck off. Royally. With cheese.

You can fuck off back to whatever buffet you prefer to patron. You can fuck off to your “Fat Acceptance of America” groups. You can fuck off back to the parachute company that makes clothing in your sizes. You can fuck off to the couch or chair with a permanent indentation of your fat ass. Just fuck off.

I will call you fat if I want to. I’m not trying to put you down, it’s merely an observation. An accurate one at that. So the moment you decide you don’t want to be considered fat anymore, lose the fucking weight. Your discomfort with your weight is your problem, not mine.

 

–Quinny

 

 

 

PIFH #1: People who think their children are the most adorable, talented creatures to roam the earth…

messy baby picture 2

…And thinks everyone else in the fucking world has to agree. I get it you have managed to engage in the most basic act that any living thing on the planet can engage in (sex) and have decided, to reproduce an off-spring, so you think you have accomplished something. You haven’t.

Now maybe I don’t get it because I haven’t be put through the pregnancy, labor and daily duties of raising a living thing with part of my DNA, but I can’t for the life of me understand what’s running through the child-struck heads of most parents. Do you really believe me when I agree that the picture of your child covered from head to toe in only God knows what is cute? Do you derive a certain pleasure from forcing me, by social rules, to valid you and your spouse’s assertion that your 3 year old’s ability to butcher “Let It Go” from Frozen is worthy of a fucking Grammy?  You do? Well, this is why I hate you.

For thousands of years people could socially give less than a quarter of a fuck about other people’s offspring and it was considered okay. You weren’t forced to constantly lavish admiration and attention on a child that had a low chance of survival anyway. One would think that because your kids could have died from the unsanitary conditions people of the past were forced to live in, that would have been the time to act like stinky baby shit didn’t smell, but it wasn’t.

However, it seems that the advances in technology and ability to carry your little forever moist child’s 500 pictures around with you daily means that you can now abuse and harass the rest of us with pictures and videos of it.

Well I’m here to tell you that I’m sick of it. I do not want to watch videos of your children doing some below average dance. They can’t even get the simple steps right. Do not show me a picture that it scribbled colored outside the lines and with the wrong shades. It is not miraculous that it is able to take macaroni and glue and dump it all on a piece of paper and leave it alone long enough to dry into a shapeless mess. Contrary to what you might believe, I do not think your child is the most amazing thing to grace my presence. Despite what you might think, just because I’m standing near you in line at the grocery store looking at a parenting magazine to past the time, it does not give an opening to ask me if I have kids just so that you can pull out your cellphone and tell me all about yours.

I don’t care.

I find it annoying.

And I wish you would royally fuck off.

Fuck off back to the Mommy and me classes where every other broad thinks her weird looking child is beautiful. Fuck off back to the parks for kids where everyone acts like their child’s ability to sit upright and be pushed on a swing by their parent is an achievement. Fuck off back to whatever hole you pushed that stroller out of.

If someone asks to see pictures of your children, then you show them. If someone happens to think your child is beautiful then take the compliments when given and sit your punk ass down. While you might have an urge to whip out that cellphone in every long elevator ride, waiting room, or line, you need to learn to control it. Put a lid on it.

You know, I may not yet have children, but I vow to never be a parent like this. Why on Earth would I have any expectation of other people to like my children? Why would I get off on coerced compliments when I know the person doesn’t actually mean it? What kinds of pleasure would I get out of wasting someone’s time when I can clearly see their eyes glazing over after the 30th picture of my child’s birthday party?

I don’t get it. I’d love for assholes who do this to explain it to me, but something tells me they’d just get offended and walk off in a huff to take yet another ego affirming picture of that child. I swear, some people just want to see the world burn.

 

–Quinny