Asshole Shorts

I have decided to write a blog for two reasons: first, to stave off the apathy that working from home has allowed to break into my life and make itself at home like a semi-abusive uncle that farts a lot and calls you a heathen for listening to pop music. Second, I find myself full of thoughts most days that seem interesting at the time and never seem to go anywhere. I figured it would be nice to have a place to share them, so that others may tell me that they are not, in fact, interesting at all.

Case in point: today I bought an iphone. Five hours in line to pay $400 (as I did not qualify for the cheap pricing, having bought a new RAZR only a year ago and having had it die twice in that time), spent mostly with nice, agreeable people. This included a big friendly Russian acupuncturist with bad breath and a few assorted nerds and normal people. Truth be known, I didn’t mind one bit. They made for occasional good conversation, shut up (most of the time) when I decided to escape by putting on my earphones, and with the nice weather and the atmosphere of a sunny afternoon just outside Central Park in the summer, it was just the day out of the apartment I badly needed. Even if it WAS 5 hours on my feet.

About a line length ahead of me was this group of unholy over-educated group of young adults. (I’d use the term “yuppies” if it didn’t both date me and include me.) They were loud, and discussing current movies. “Did you see Batman? Oh, it was good, but not as good as Batman Begins. And Heath Ledger? He was great. I heard he went nuts playing the role, that’s why he killed himself. He’s a method actor, you know. That’s when you basically live that character all the time! Yeah, I heard he didn’t sleep for weeks. Who’s that other actor who does that… uh… you know, he was in National Treasure. Nick Cage! That’s it.”

After taking in about as much of this inane and stupid banter as I could stand, I put on my earphones to silence it, tuning my iPod to one of the 3 songs I’m currently obsessing over. I examined them closely, and assumed they had to have attended a good, if not Ivy League college, and clearly thought the world of themselves. This was an assumption proved accurate when the proclaimation of one female in the group, “Oh my god, we are SO movie critics!” managed to break through the protective wall of my earphone. I looked down, noticing that one guy was wearing these obnoxious shorts, the kind they carry at Macy’s next to the penny loafers. White plaid shorts with leather sandals.

Nobody who wears shorts like that is a good person. These people single-handedly reminded me why I will forever avoid the suburbs. Catty, self-important know-it-alls. So, for that, I thank you. Mr. Asshole Shorts.

If you wear them, it is because you are a douche.

If you wear them, it is because you are a douche.


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