…with Tr*mp. Other than the usual–we both poop, we intake oxygen at regular intervals, sneeze. But it goes beyond that. I’m not proud of this, but I feel him on some things, to wit:

1) I can hold a grudge. Did you piss me off in the third grade? I remember you! If we run into each other on Facebook, I will not accept your lame little friend request! Likewise, dum-dum seems to hold onto slights for an abnormally long period of time.

How can I fix this? This will be tough. The grudges feel my soul and keep me alive.

How does D fix this? Call up all of those people from high school, yell I’M THE PRESIDENT SORT OF KIND OF OKAY I DIDN’T REALLY WIN BUT I’M STILL GOING TO BE LIVING IN THE WHITE HOUSE FUCKERS. That’s what I would do. Will do, if I’m ever not-elected president.

2) I have a realllllllllly hard time letting go of things and people. Did I have a crush on you in high school? I probably still do! If you’re super lucky, you show up in a book! I’m too freaky-deaky shy to look you on up FB, but don’t think I’ve forgotten. Perhaps more sanely, I have a hard time letting go of friendships and thanks to social media, I am compelled to try to reignite friendships from years gone by. I always assumed I would be the big time author/lawyer/whatever (see previous post) and then swoop in to reintroduce myself to people, but social media came first. Fortunately for us all, as I said I am freaky-deaky shy and don’t randomly search for people because my stomach would get all tingly and my face all purple.

How can I fix this? I probably won’t. It’s pretty harmless.

How can D fix this? He has enough money to track down his high school crushes and enough money to pay them for things. Do it, get it done, move on son.  Since he has a “platform”, he can publish a book at will, too.

3) I used to lash out at people. Oh boy, this is a big one and really not something I ever thought I’d admit publicly. For much of my life, I had what one might call impulse issues. One could further take the hyperactivity test and find that while one does not have the “AD” part, one definitely has the “H” part. One might also be given tests to measure depression and anxiety and score off the charts. One might refuse to take the bipolar test because one has enough things on her plate, thanks, and I’m okay with where I’m at. But until those tests were taken by me (I’m back in 1st person, yay), I sort of limped along in life. I had/have a high IQ and can really focus when I like what I’m doing, so that got me along until my mid-20s when I was in a career that bored the shit out of me and required me to focus for long periods of time.

Okay anyway, so until then, I really lashed out at people without thinking. I found it charming when people who utter little bon mots at someone else’s expense. While it worked for Dorothy Parker, it most definitely did not work for me and I was neither making friends nor influencing people. Twitter wasn’t a thing yet (thank God), but I was very quick to shoot off emails and I went ad hominem way too quickly. I am not proud of this. I am forever thankful that I somehow reinvented myself into a nice person. I USE MY WIT FOR GOOD GODDAMMIT! Punch up, not down!

Point being, that I understand his knee jerk reactions. I do not in any way condone them, but I know it is hurtful when people say mean things or make fun of you on SNL or say you look like my dead aunt’s rotting corpse’s asshole. That hurts. Someone on the Internet once told me that she had seen my user pic and I was “not all that and a bag of chips”. That was completely unnecessary.

But here’s the thing I learned early in my Internet days and I think it’s a good motto for life: If you care that Joan from Iowa thinks you are an asshole, then the internet is not for you.

Here is a motto that I just made up: if you can literally start an international war, complete with the use of ICBMs, then the internet is not for you.

How can I fix this? Thankfully I already did, thanks to the fine little pills I take every night.

How can D fix this? Get the fuck off the internet, son. It’s not for you.



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