Mornings suck. Unless you’re wealthy and have a butler that spoon feeds you papaya and melon, mornings suck. And they suck even more in the winter. It’s cold, it’s windy, and it’s miserable. Anyone with a smile on his or her face from the hours of 7am-11am during winter months should be treated as an infidel and disposed of accordingly.
Confrontations add to the misery of winter mornings. At least in the summer, once a confrontation is over, you can get ice cream and not die of hypothermia. But no, no fucking ice cream party in the winter. It’s too fucking cold for ice cream – here, have some hot chocolate…Well guess what: I FUCKING HATE HOT CHOCOLATE!
Recently, before the warm weather came back to save us all from the frozen tundra of misery, I was subjected to a fun confrontation because of a stupid fucking person occupied by her stupid fucking blackberry. You know the way it goes; some asshole comes wandering out of a doorway, eyes trained on the tiny little screen cupped delicately in his or her hand, shuffling around the sidewalk like a coked-up blind person. Now, most normal human-beings would simply zigzag around this fucking idiot. Most normal human-beings just want to avoid confrontation and proceed into the solace of their office so they can weep quietly under their desks about how trivial their lives have become. But not me. No, no, I am stubborn. I am retarded. So, staying true to those personality traits, I stayed on course, and walked directly into her. On purpose. I don't know why I did this. In my twisted mind, she needed to learn a harsh lesson about life. You see, young lady, you must pay more attention while you're walking the streets of Manhattan. What if I was a murderer? What if you texting that guy from the gym who won’t call you back because he thinks you’re too clingy and look awful when drunk causes me to go on a rampage?
CAN YOU LIVE WITH THIS???
Of course, after rushing into her, her fucking blackberry dropped to the ground and made a crash that echoed off the streets and surrounding buildings like a howitzer going off, thus stopping about fifteen people around us, and causing a scene.
"Watch where you're going, asshole," she said.
Me? I am the asshole? Did she really call me, asshole? I should watch where I’m going?
"No, you watch where you're going instead of staring at your blackberry, asshole."
I fucking served her. Everyone around me knew that I fucking served her back to the Bloomingdales corporate-slut-suit rack. She called me an asshole, and then I called her an asshole back, but louder, and with a stronger accentuation. Like this: ASShole. I fucking win.
I know, I know, it’s ridiculous, my actions are those of a child. But you know what? Fuck people like her. This isn’t Des Moines. There are 60,000 people walking on any given block, moving a speed of roughly 700 mph, so how can you justify wandering aimlessly so you can read an email about expense accounts?
You can’t. There is no justifying this. So, fuck off.
Look, I have a blackberry, I get it, it has the ability to do interesting shit. It's so innovative! It's so sleek! Look at all the applications I have!
Well, I really don’t give a shit.
I keep mine in my jacket. I already spend nine hours a day staring at a fucking computer, I don’t want to spend my precious few hours of freedom staring at an even smaller screen…DOING MORE FUCKING WORK! Why would anyone want to do this? Why? Give me one fucking reason why - I demand it! The only time I break out the blackberry is during meetings when my four-year-old attention span keeps me from absorbing information past the ten-minute-mark. "Oh look at that, I have an email, let me pretend to use my blackberry so I can check MLB Trade Rumors...Holy shit, Miguel Cairo signed a minor league deal with the Mets?"
So, to save you all from any further incoherent rambling, here's some free advice: ignore your blackberry. You will live longer, it's a fact*. And besides, you're not that important anyway. Your email will be there for you…in five minutes…when you get to your office…and open your Outlook. If you do not heed to this advice, prepare to be ambushed by me, because I clearly have zero regard for the addiction you have to your stupid job and your blackberry and that new fucking application that tells you where every Banana Republic is in the city. You suck.
*not a fact
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