>Dude, You’re That Guy From . . .

>This dating a small time “celebrity” thing is really starting to grate on my nerves.  The intrusion into our daily life is persistent and usually obnoxious.  Most people aren’t gracious whatsoever but instead are brutish and rude.  It is a sad reflection of our American manners or lack thereof.  Imagine the most non-discreet point you could ever muster with your entire body, arm and index finger.  Now accompany that point with a shrieking exclamation, “DUDE!  YOU’RE THAT GUY FROM (fill in the blank)!”  Exactly how should he react to that?  Care to submit any ideas? 

 

It could be worse, he could just look like the guy from (fill in the blank).  That would suck.  “So, then what are you complaining about, Kambri?”  Since you asked, I’ll tell ya.  We rent in Astoria.  He’s 31 years old and has a roommate.  I have a bed bug problem for the 2nd time in 4 years.  If I’m going to share my boyfriend with every overweight, zit faced tween with internet access, endure pathetic attempts made by old acquaintances to re-insert themselves into his life, tolerate unapologetic interrupted dinners and conversation and listen to dumb guidos shout lines from Chappelle’s Show, well, I want perks goddammit!  I should be living in a Manhattan loft, walking around in silk panties and maribou slippers whilst sipping apple martinis, my skin dripping with diamonds and pearls and having hours of wet hot sex at my every whim.  I mean, really. 

—Kambri 

That said, I would take all of the above bad stuff sans perks all day, any day if I could eliminate the star fucking hangers-on that feign friendship for the inside loop or ass kiss their manipulative selves into jobs &/or gigs they don’t deserve.  Okay, rant over.  All better now.