OWN WORST ENEMY!
I won't say i'm sorry bout not writing 4 a while but i've certainly missed it so today i'll critique myself n write whatever comes to mind......Before you all get worried that I’m going to pull an Owen Wilson, rest assured, I love myself way too much to do anything self-destructive. Today’s entry is not some kind of cry for help. Then again, if you were thinking about giving me money, or pity pu**y, I guess I’ll let you call it whatever you want.
The reason that I feel like I am my own worst enemy sometimes is because I have a bad habit of messing up my follow-through when it comes time to capitalize on opportunities. At first, I used to take it for granted that things would always just work out for me in the end. After being pimp slapped by fate a few times too many, I realized that I have to get out and make things happen, instead of just sliding by on my charm, talent and luck.
You would think that learning this lesson would be a good thing, but I took it to extremes. I am now somewhat of a dysfunctional perfectionist. I tend to pick apart my work, striving for perfection, but never feeling that it’s quite there. That’s a big reason why I haven’t finished a large-scale business idea in years, and why this site, while very humorous, does not have the right look to truly fit the funny content that I put on here.
Actually, that dysfunctional perfectionist thing has even messed me up with women before, too. I was doing research(for free) a few months back at this bookstore, and while I was taking notes from a book that I had no intention of buying, this FINE lady in a sundress walked past, smiled and said hello. I responded in kind, but I was so caught up in what I was doing, that I let her keep walking. After I finished jotting down the last part, I decided “What the Hell? Why not go make a new sexy friend?”
I went out to the parking lot, and all I saw was her pulling off in an £50,000 Mercedes convertible. I thought to myself “Dammit Leon! You just let the perfect Sugar Momma experience drive away! Some so-called Black Gigolo you are!”
change of topic now.......I can’t stand people who use “Selective English.” By selective English, I mean people who can speak English, but act like they can’t when it comes time to do something that they don’t want to do. Don’t get me wrong, this is not an attack on illegal aliens. They are getting enough bad press and persecution these days. This is an attack on lazy people who hide behind their native languages. Thanks to one of them, my morning commute cost me £15 today.
I stopped by the McDonalds earlier this morning, since I had a craving for some good ol’ fashioned orange juice for some reason. Once I made my purchase, I realized that I did not have any change to catch the bus that would take me right outside of the building that I needed to be at. I then went back over to the lady who took my order and asked her to give me change for a £5 bill.
Mind you, this woman spoke English when she took my order and the three before me. All of the sudden, she didn’t understand what I was talking about. She said “Wait one minute” and tried to stall me. I after the next three customers came and went, I asked her for about the third time, this time standing directly in front of hr with my hands on the countertop next to the register. The woman had the nerve to say “No . You say change?”
then i said " yes i want change"
she then says" wait one minute i no understanding."......with indian accent.
I then replied “Damn just gimme my change! I bet you understood that! You’d understand me if I had on an homeoffice badge or something. Stop faking like you can’t understand the words coming out of my mouth!”
At that point, I looked over and saw the bus pulling off from across the street. I knew that if I waited for the next one, that I would have been late. I also knew that the £5 in change was no longer a relevant issue, because I was going to have to catch a cab just to make it on time. At that point, I just walked out of the place, and hailed a cab(they stopped for me today because I’m dressed like I have a good job or something).
So let’s see…one orange juice and a ride to work cost me about £17 in total, not counting the minutes of my life wasted arguing with a woman who’s rather fake like she can’t speak English than open her cash register and give a paying customer change for a £5 bill. I should be angry, but for some reason, I still feel like it’s going to be a good day today, despite the negative start things got off to. Just please, please, PLEASE remind me to never eat breakfast at the that McDonalds again. They’ll probably put all kinds of “additives” and “preservatives” into my food, now that I cursed out Ms. Selective English-Speaker.