July 15, 2014
As the Betches’ Social Assassin, I’m constantly looking for new targets. My psychiatrist thinks my biggest enemy is staring at me in the mirror, but what does he know? He thinks Friends was better than Seinfeld.
No, I won’t Like your page. Why? Because in six months, Basic Blake’s Cupcakes will be a bittersweet memory and you’ll be hounding me to hashtag your new line of flower crowns. There are two types of people in the world: those with directed passion who spend years cultivating a craft, and those who hope Real Housewives will accept their Early Decision application. It’s cool to be creative and fine to find your calling, but when you hopscotch from shitty DJ to shitty jewelry designer to shitty Barre blogger, it’s obvious you know you want to do nothing.
This might only be NY thing, but let’s face it, if you’re reading this in Indiana or Wisconsin, you’re only there for Summer Semester and will be back to SoHo in no time. I’ll set the stage:
You’re exhausted from SoulCycle (String’s class is super hard) so you say fuck it and hail a cab. The taxi rolls up and you go to open the door. It’s locked. The driver’s side window rolls down ever so slowly, revealing a pair of eyes and maybe some facial hair.
“Where are you going?” asks the Driver.
This is the scariest phrase a New Yorker could hear besides “Suspicious Package Reported”
Immediately your heart begins to bounce and your extremities tingle.
“Uh…14th and 2nd?” You reply meekly.
“Sorry, I’m going to Queens.”
VROOOM. He’s gone and you’re sweaty.
WHAT THE FUCKING FUCK? HOW IS THIS A THING?
No other transaction results in such an incongruous ending:
“Hey, can I get a vodka soda?”
“Sorry, I’m only making unicorn blood smoothies tonight. Fuck me, right?”
For people who pee in jars, Cabbies can be some discriminatory motherfuckers.
Last week, a kid messaged me on Facebook:
“Used to be a huge fan of ur comedy until i saw that joke u made about autistic people in ur recent post. Thats just fucked up and i hope u feel like shit cause u should.”
I did feel like shit, not because I made an off-color crack but because the only fan mail I got that day was from a 15-year-old bro with an axe to grind. Most likely, Mr. Peace Signs in His Profile Picture knows someone with autism. Thus, he’s especially sensitive to the struggles of autistic people and probably imagined me making that joke to his beloved friend/sibling/etc, which of course, I wasn’t. Yet, my former fan has to draw the line somewhere, right?
“Oh sure, gays jokes and 9/11 jokes are fine, but all bets are off when I’m tangentially related to the topic.”
This is a stupid and hypocritical way of thinking about humor and it’s painfully prevalent in modern day society. If Tig Notaro can do an incredible 30-minute set about her breast cancer diagnosis, then you can lighten the fuck up. There is no such thing as off-limit topics, only unfunny jokes. If this kid told me my Asperger’s pun was lazy and cliché, it would have stung. Instead, he made it about himself and then later asked me to do a write-up on his DJ friend.
Stop trying to make fetch happen because you’re really being a Helga Pataki right now and if you put down your Tamagotchi and picked up your Nokia 3360, you’d realize some Seth Cohen-lookin’ hottie is tryna become your Lobster.
Stop being Buzzfeed’s bitch and move on. Cause in 10 more years you’re gonna become that weird lady in the office with jokes nobody gets.
Okay, if they’re actually good looking, gush away. But when the people in the picture are neither subjectively nor objectively attractive, I can’t help but call bullshit. Plus, it does more harm than good, bringing their unfortunate characteristic to the forefront. Ever have someone comment “Skinnyyyy” on your picture? That’s because you used to be “fatttt.” Thanks for reminding me, besty. I should comment on your picture “OMG, SO NOT A STUPID IDIOT!”
Some guy 20 feet away “does you a favor” by holding the door open. Now you’re doing a pathetic gallop to get there so he doesn’t have to wait for you. Now you’re doing him a favor that you never wanted to do in the first place. Wanna do me a favor? Keep walking through that door and let me get there on my own fucking time.
When a Far-Away Door Holder holds the far away door for me, I take full advantage. I slow down to a snail’s pace and shout THANK YOU with each step. No Door Holder is gonna hold me back.
Got other People who need to GTFO? People who need to stay the fuck in (I gotta do that one soon). Leave your thoughts in the comments section or get at me @krumlifedotcom