Ah, fresh summer full of hopes and dreams and long walks
while the sun strokes the Earth gently with its shimmering beams… Ah, young
love… Ah, time of exceeded expectations and tremendous mistakes.
I’ve been working for 2 days now and I can already feel the loooove spreading through my body. Which
actually means that I start to find all those things that annoy me with people.
It’s summer, it’s hot, there are flying bugs around me and I
can’t help myself but do the thing I do best. (jk, not so much)
Okay, okay, I’ll tell you: I excel at making lists basically
of anything – why I hate people, why I love them, things I can’t live without
and so on…
So today I’ll share with you some of the things I don’t understand about people.
1.
Why do parents make their children pee (God
forbid something else…) on the street?! I have to tell you that this is something
that REALLY disturbs me! Under no circumstances is this acceptable. I don’t
know if this is particularly a Bulgarian thing or it’s done all over the world
but it’s genuinely bothering me. Come on, people! Take your infant to a
bathroom. Don’t just drop its pants and whip it out! I mean… a dick is a dick!
No matter if it’s a 3-year-old’s or belonging to some 27-year-old asshole who’s
too drunk to control bladder and he pees all over the place. I think I just
compared small children to drunks… Oh, well!
2. The slut-shaming of women and men respectively is a matter for at least a novel or two so I’ll just brush up on the material. Who are you that you care so much about who I sleep with? The only time and place when you can have any objection is when I’m fucking hard in the room next to you and I bother you with the noise I make. But when this happens you can come up to me and tell me that I have to be a little quieter because you can’t sleep/study/concentrate/feed your cat. It’s all okay then. But YOU, my dearest unrelated-to-me-person, DO NOT get to tell me if it’s moral or not that in that room next to yours I fuck with a man, a woman, 3 men, 6 women, a dog or some fishez. Well, actually if I have sex with my pets you are allowed to alert the Animal Rescue Squad.
3. Another topic I take very seriously is concerning body modifications. This is also a big issue for me so let me be brief. It’s about bosses and their decision making whether to hire an employee who is covered with tattoos or not. I tend to make all my tattoos on places which I can easily cover. But time goes by and I run out of coverable body parts. I hate that even in myself I still find the doubts that I won’t be taken seriously or hired on my wanted job because of INK on my skin. Can you even comprehend this… The only difference between you and that other person is that you have INK on your arms perhaps. INK. Let me tell you a secret. Tattoos don’t interfere with your competence of doing your job. WHAT?! SHOCKING! EPIPHANY! CALL THE POPE AND OPRAH! Can I get that in writing? And just BTW when your only argument is that BACK IN THE DAY only prostitutes and prisoners had tattoos, I have a newsflash for you: Nowadays your average high class escort is driving a BMW, so if I adopt your ignorant kind of thinking for a second I may as well tell you that YOUR SHINY BLACK CAR MAKES YOU A FUCKING PROSTITUTE, ASSFACE! Don’t jump the gun too quickly, sweetheart, ‘cause the gun may be loaded and I might shoot you by mistake.
4. Having lived in a sea town for the past 20 years
2. The slut-shaming of women and men respectively is a matter for at least a novel or two so I’ll just brush up on the material. Who are you that you care so much about who I sleep with? The only time and place when you can have any objection is when I’m fucking hard in the room next to you and I bother you with the noise I make. But when this happens you can come up to me and tell me that I have to be a little quieter because you can’t sleep/study/concentrate/feed your cat. It’s all okay then. But YOU, my dearest unrelated-to-me-person, DO NOT get to tell me if it’s moral or not that in that room next to yours I fuck with a man, a woman, 3 men, 6 women, a dog or some fishez. Well, actually if I have sex with my pets you are allowed to alert the Animal Rescue Squad.
3. Another topic I take very seriously is concerning body modifications. This is also a big issue for me so let me be brief. It’s about bosses and their decision making whether to hire an employee who is covered with tattoos or not. I tend to make all my tattoos on places which I can easily cover. But time goes by and I run out of coverable body parts. I hate that even in myself I still find the doubts that I won’t be taken seriously or hired on my wanted job because of INK on my skin. Can you even comprehend this… The only difference between you and that other person is that you have INK on your arms perhaps. INK. Let me tell you a secret. Tattoos don’t interfere with your competence of doing your job. WHAT?! SHOCKING! EPIPHANY! CALL THE POPE AND OPRAH! Can I get that in writing? And just BTW when your only argument is that BACK IN THE DAY only prostitutes and prisoners had tattoos, I have a newsflash for you: Nowadays your average high class escort is driving a BMW, so if I adopt your ignorant kind of thinking for a second I may as well tell you that YOUR SHINY BLACK CAR MAKES YOU A FUCKING PROSTITUTE, ASSFACE! Don’t jump the gun too quickly, sweetheart, ‘cause the gun may be loaded and I might shoot you by mistake.
4. Having lived in a sea town for the past 20 years
where hundreds of people come during the summer has its perks.
For example I
can see a pattern with all these tourists. And the thing I don’t understand is
why they bring all their children with them? They’ve come for only a week or
two on the beach to spend their vacation and they drag some screaming little
bastards along with them. I knoooow
that children are nice and blah blah and they have to see the sea and so on but
how can you rest and enjoy your expensive cocktail when a 5-year-old is crying
because it wants ice-cream?! Pay a nanny or just give some money to the
grandparents to watch your child while you can drink your beer in peace on the
beach.
It’s called Capitalism.
5.
Something else happening during the summer and
especially when I work in a place where I have to constantly deal with tourists
is the language barrier. Dear, RUSSIANS, I fucking don’t understand you. Most
of the clients on the pavilion where children come to “fish” out ducks to win
prizes are indeed from Russia, Ukraine or countries where Russian is spoken.
And there I am working with a smile on my face when some middle aged woman
comes with a little boy and starts talking in Russian. Я незнаю is not working on her so I start
speaking in English. There’s no па
руски in these
premises, my lady! This fucking annoys me because they come in Bulgaria and
expect that you MUST talk to them in their language. I’m extremely sorry but I
am not obliged to know Russian. If you refuse to talk in English this is your
problem. Let me just ask you something, if I ever go to Russia, would you speak
in Bulgarian or would you still ignore me? I bet Russians are pretty awesome
and they are also fellow drinkers but if you are being assholes, I’ll be even a
bigger one. ДАСВИДАНЯ, motherfucker!
6. Last but not least, I don’t
understand how
people can eat pasta.
It’s nasty, spongy and sleazy and it’s awful. The spaghetti
is like long gross worms. Why would you eat worms, people?And all these macaroni
and macaroni-related stuffs.
Just no.
Unfaithfully yours, Queen Vessela.
Няма коментари:
Публикуване на коментар