FYXSU! (aka sparring tips)

this is supposed to be a light-hearted bit…

…time will tell if it turns out that way.

i’m in a good mood – i actually had a DAY OFF yesterday. not that i didn’t do any work shit…that would be TOO much to ask. not that i didn’t THINK about work shit outside of actually DOING the work shit. that would be WAY too much to ask…and i really dig my job, so that’s not even that big a deal.

no, i allowed myself to completely decompress yesterday, it felt good, i ate like shit (that felt good till i got on the scale this morning) and then today was a bit o’ work, a bit o’ fun, and now a bit o’ play time with copper and the lil’ dude (who, at sixty-five pounds, is not so “lil'” any more). fortunately, while in full decompression mode, i left myself notes for whore bits that came up during various LOUD conversations with shane (the volume due to him driving and the a/c being out in his car so we were whizzing along the toll road at seventy or so with the windows down and yelling at each other over wind noise.

this shit happens – at least i took notes on the fly. see – that journalism degree paid off! now if i could only pay IT off…never mind that now.

the bit –

i don’t have a girlfriend right now, per se. i have girls that are friends. i have other girls that are friends that i see naked on a fairly regular basis. but no real RELATIONSHIP in the conventional sense of the word. the real upside to this? no fights, drama, or bullshit. while all three of those things are bad things, i at least, at one point in a drunken-induced (and infused) verbal brawl with an ex (we’ll call her “becca” to protect the “innocent” on this bit) i came up with the ultimate, rude-as-fuck, nothing you can say back to it that this can’t be thrown RIGHT back at you line in a verbal altercation with your significant other…

(it should be noted that adhering to the following plan virtually guarantees you ZERO make-up sex that night. although i DID get some, but i ooze motherfucking charm…)

the line –

FUCK YOU BECCA, SHUT UP!

(again, “becca” used in the generic and does not actually refer to anybody i’ve ever dated…)

there’s nothing that can be said after that. well, at least nothing that can be said afterward that can’t have that EXACT same line, verbatim, thrown back at it…

you never do SHIT around this house…

fuck you becca, shut up!

i’m tired of all my friends always seeing you drunk!

fuck you becca, shut up!

stop telling me to shut up!

fuck you becca, shut up!

see how well that works? EVENTUALLY they run out of shit to say. or get exasperated and walk off. or get REALLY pissed and throw shit. if it’s the first two, you won. if they throw a curve ball (or curve vase, as the case may be) you just add a little to the end…

that’s it, sean, i’m sick of your shit! *vase goes flying past my head and into the wall*

fuck you, becca shut up…and stop throwing shit!

REMIX!

and lest you see this as totally misogynistic and sexist (and honestly, at this stage in the bit, how could you not?) realize that it works for EITHER sex…let’s, as the eighties hip-hop vernacular goes, flip the script…

becca, it’s not the JEANS that make your ass look fat…it’s your FAT ASS that makes your ass look fat…

fuck you sean, shut-up!

that’s why i’m never in the mood any more and have to get drunk to touch you…

fuck you sean, shut up!

and why i’m fucking your sister while you’re at work! *beer bottle goes whizzing past her head*

fuck you sean, shut up…and stop throwing shit at me!

REMIX!

see, it works. see if it helps in your relationship disputes. if it backfires i know a good bed and breakfast near here…if this fails bad enough maybe we can get a group rate?

(the “X” in the title is used algebraically, in place of whatever person’s initials happen to fit…)