Gang War Turf war

Mess: Gawd, how long have we known each other?

Me: I don't know. Years? Did we meet in college?

Mess: No. Two years ago at the Bushwick Country Club.

Me: Um, I don't remember.

Mess: You're such a fucking bitch! We met. I thought you were such a fucking bitch I totally hated you. I really really hated you.

Me: Um.

Mess: And then you banged my friend ******* and I liked you.

Me: What?

Mess: Well, then I liked you. When you banged him.

Me (to my friend): Wow, this guy's like two for two over here. (to Mess) You're not being very nice to me, you know.

Mess: What? Then I liked you.

Me: You know, Mess. There're a lot of reasons to like me. We don't know each other very well-- you might not be aware of this: I'm a kinda fabulous person. There are a lot of reasons to like me. The fact that I used to date your friend ******* is not one of them.

Mess: Okay...

Me: Look, what did you eat for lunch on September 9th, 2007?

Mess: Balthazar's! Ha ha ha. No, really, I don't remember.

Me: Yeah, exactly. It was, like, a year ago. I'm a totally different person. It's totally boring.I don't remember.

Then Mess proceeded to pick a fight with me about politics, how it's all really a sham, all politicians are alike and I'm a "fucking idiot" to think Obama's speech was cool. I tried to make nice and say that some of it is yeah, PR stuff or whatever. I made a snide remark about Hillary's speech, trying to make light of the situation, make a joke or whatever and Mess said "What'd you see that on Gawker.com? I hate flip-floppers. You either watch all of it or you don't. You're disappointing me. You're so fucking stupid." Getting all "aggro" like her ugly was going to rub off on me or something.

And. I. Almost. Hit. A. Motherfucker.

I wouldn't do that, fight with someone weaker than me. You know, we're not exactly evenly matched. What's Mess gonna do? Sic my ex-boyfriend on me? Anyways, Mess leaves the bar because I'm A Bigger Bitch and I Will Not Back Down.

So I'm in this gang. Or, I should say gang / coven, because we don't use knives. Some of us do. S.E.C.R.E.T.G.I.R.L.C.O.N.S.P.I.R.A.C.Y. I am practicing forgiveness. Letting go, and being nice even when I don't want to.

But my gang slash coven and I are also practicing voodoo and don't like shady bitches.

No comments: