I’m a pretty easy going fella. Laugh if you must… I’ll wait.
I’m easy going, but that doesn’t mean I’m tolerant. What I mean is that I won’t readily accept being treated like shit if you’re suffering from a nervous breakdown, pre-menstrual syndrome, post-partum depression, scurvy, irritable bowel syndrome, shingles, or calcium deficiency. In most instances my complete disregard for your comfort doesn’t really impact anyone, even if you’re the one afflicted. The one way it might is if you ask to visit me here on Maui and expect me to wait upon you hand and foot.
All I ask of my guests in exchange for a place to crash while they visit the valley isle is that they realize that the sun isn’t the only heavenly body that refuses to rise and set according to their schedule. Oprah will refuse a second helping of cake before I shake my ass according to your commands.
We’ve had a few guests visit and only once has someone broken the rules. Aside from suffering from a lack of consideration, this particular guest wore out there welcome in a little over 72 hours by being so incredibly self-centered that I spent the last 36 hours of her stay locked in my room or at the local starbucks. I had to pull a pseudo disappearing act otherwise I would have gone postal and told her all the things someone should tell her. Things like:
- You’re alone for a reason.
- Love doesn’t occur in a vaccum.
- You need professional help.
- No one likes a whiner.
- I can see why your last boyfriend became an alcoholic.
I stick my neck out a long way for my friends. They’ve earned it. The only time I won’t bend over backwards for a friend is when they prove to me that don’t know what being a friend is all about. Knowing when to shut your piehole and listen as well as when to open your mouth and offer advice. When to ask for help and when to strike out on your own. When to not spill a cup of water on a $1800 laptop computer… er, I digress.
I’m not sure about the Red Queen, I don’t speak for her, but as far as I’m concerned, the last guest is no longer allowed to breath the same air as I do. Next time, the gloves are off.
7 thoughts on “would you smile for me?”
i hope whoever you wrote that about doesn’t have a link to your blog 😛
yikes! that was mean.
Hmmm… No, mean would be me calling her fat. This was me being honest.
staring down the barrel at the arab on the ground. Im alive. Im dead. Killing an arab.
Sorry, was reading comments and then saw Camus and got all Curey. It happens.
Yeah, camus introduced me to the cure rather than vice versa… good stuff and what the heck are you doing awake?
HEY! $%!* happens!
Comments are closed.