Time to Whine

Can I mention how tired I am of never getting anything I want? I don't want to whine or anything. Ok, on closer consideration, I have read what I just titled this post and decided that I do want to whine or something. Not even or something, that's exactly what I want to do. I don't feel like I ever ask for that much, but if the world were Santa Clause, I'd be filling the fireplace with lighter fluid and hiding behind the couch with a match to get back at him for all those years of freaking coal in the stocking of my existence.

First order of business: a pony. I don't feel like I'm being unreasonable here. Ponies are not only adorable, but they are cost effective and hold their value well. Plus, all the work the pony would do around the house would more than pay for it. And I'd walk it everyday.

Ok, got that one out of the way.

Next up, what I so affectionately call "the female catastrophe" (OK, you caught me, this post is entirely a thinly veiled expose on my frustration with women throughout my lonely, lonely existence). Guys, I'll get to you in a second, but for now, girls? Holy crap. I have one point of advice to help you fix everything and to stop pissing me off: Get. Over. Yourselves. The problem with each and every girl is that they simultaneously want to be smarter than everyone else, and then do the stupidest shit imaginable. Just for the record, it doesn't balance out. If you act like you've got the whole world figured out and know what your life is all about, and then spend half your day chasing after some douchebag, who will only notice you when your shirt's off or he's drunk, because you think you can see the real him behind his facade, then do me the favor of never coming into my sight again, because I will "notice" my foot into your larynx. I think what happened is girls got tired of being able to get whatever guy they wanted to, just because guys don't give a crap, and so instead, they started finding guys that they could MAKE reasons up for why they couldn't have him or why he hates THEM in particular as opposed to all the other girls he wouldn't think twice about picking up if they expressed as much interest in him as me in a small child's cries for help as he is attacked by a pack of wolves (hint: very little, with some laughter involved). There's an important step I'm leaving out in all of this though. In the middle of all this making up of things that she can cry about, the female will then seek out someone to lean on for support and reassure her that she's not ugly. Target: everyone she knows. So then, you've got the entire world, minus the sought after sack of crap and the annoying ass clingy girl that wants to obtain this sack of crap, hearing this girl wank her heart out until 1) all the girls realize they want to be more interesting than that bitch by becoming a more tortured individual so they make up even worse crap to feel sorry for themselves about and 2) all the guys do nothing. Guys don't think about anything and they don't give a damn ass. Girls, I'm done berating you, if you're one of my friends and are a girl and are reading this, you're one of the glorious exceptions to the rule for which I am so thankful, and you're also, hopefully, gullible. Consequently, I am very available for you to torture yourself over. If you're not one of my friends and are a girl, reread this paragraph and then go investigate the tailpipe of an idling car. Get in real close, it will answer your questions.

But now on to something MUCH WORSE: guys. Guys, I'm tired of you CAUSING everything I mentioned above. Stop doing nothing and not giving a damn ass, you're only encouraging them. Stop trying to pretend like you're interesting or that you have standards or reservations. You really don't. The male world is divided into two strata. The self proclaimed gurus, and the freaking losers. The losers hate the gurus for always acting like they know everything and managing to pick up all the whores, and the gurus hate the losers, because they have to look at us--er, uh--them. Honestly, if one more guy tells me that "all I need to do is _____", or that such and such will really help me pick up chicks, I'm going to tie their penis to a merry go round for effect, but then just punch them in the throat, instead. I am tired of guys being underhanded, cruel, sadistic, and single-minded, but I'm more tired that I'm not any damn good at being that, too. And girls, stop letting that work! So, guys stop promoting girls to hate themselves, and girls stop promoting guys to be assholes so that you can hate yourselves. In fact, if everyone could just do me the favor of shutting up and getting over yourself, that would be great. You're not that cool. I'm that cool.

I should not have written this because it is really late and I have no idea what I am talking about. I am not even going to read over it because I don't want to end up regretting what I said and deleting it, because, well, that would just be too smart and I'm a much bigger fan of humiliating myself in front of everyone. So, from what I can remember, in conclusion, if you want to start giving me what I want world, I could use the following:

A pony
All males to die
All females to suddenly realize that all males are dead and that "last resort" James just suddenly became the sexy by-default alpha male.
All females to die after I realize that they still don't notice I exist even though I'm the last man on earth.
A pack of wolves to attack a small child

That will be all, world. I'm not a greedy man.

I'm back with even more directionless rage

Chances are, no one's reading this thing anymore. I mean, it's been a month, and it's not that I haven't found material to write about, it's just that I am a complete piece of ass. I mean that both in the way that I am lazy and shiftless, and also in the way that I am hott. ttt. Needless to say, doing nothing and being unmotivated, and then making up lies about how I spent my lonely nights with countless beautiful women so that I don't admit my pathetic nature to others, and consequently, myself, is a lot of work. And we all know how I feel about work: I feel that it is absolutely vital for underpriveleged and underpaid societal classes to continue doing it thanklessly to enhance the countless conveniences in my life.

You know what the worst thing EVER is? Stupid ass strangers that have to talk to you in public about really lame crap. There is no such thing as awkward silence, just awkward people. And if you're talking to me about the basic facts of situations around an environment we happen to be sharing, you are one of those people, so please do yourself the favor of shutting up and putting a bag on your head, because it is the only way you will ever earn the respect of your peers. Point in case, I'm at Walmart. Don't get me started on Walmart. It has been scientifically proven that every genocide or mass human displacement or famine or disease or catastrophe can be inextricacbly traced back to the existence of this garbage dump of shitty products. It has also been the cause of me crying everytime I go into it, because I can't handle how overwhelmingly absurd its continuing ability to not just be a nightmare is. #1, the greeter? Holy son of a. Are you serious? NOBODY wants some 75 year old man to greet them at the door and say, "Enjoy shopping at WALMART." I don't want to even SEE a 75 year old man, let alone have to interact with him. And do you notice that there's an article in like, every major newspaper just about every other day that reports on some 90 year old geriatric dump that just loves working as the greeter at the local Walmart(s) that she can't find it in herself to quit? Can you find it in yourself to fire their ass for me, Walmart? There's a REASON people die. After the age of like, 50, you look gross. Get over it. Imagine a pile of crap that totes itself around for 50 years. Do you think it would look good? Well, you're made of the same stuff. Now imagine it sitting out there for double that. Does anyone remember stinkymeat.net? Same idea. After about 20 days (analogously), you're moldy as crap, and then a raccoon eats you. If you're utterly confused, the answer to my stinkymeat.net question was "no". See if that site still exists, I'm too lazy to try and hyperlink it.

Oh yeah, that reminds me. Happy 89th birthday, grandma. Congratulations on still being alive. What do you even say to a birthday at that point? "So, do you feel older?" No, of course she doesn't, she's felt as old as shit since she was 70. She's been surpassing the life expectancy since before I was alive. But, it was heartening to know that someone told her today that she didn't look a day older than 75. I'm happy for her and all, but honestly, have you ever seen a rotting pumpkin after like, 7 weeks. Week 8, it's still gonna look the same. Probably will smell worse though. And now you know why old people smell bad.

Anyway, I wish that instead of this old person trying to shake my hand (gross) and wish me a good day, they just had a rack full of cattleprods and sanitary wipes so I could disinfect myself when one of Walmart's disgusting patrons got close to me, and use the cattleprod if the situation gets desperate (or if I'm bored). One MORE thing. Do you see how the greeter's underhanded task is to also make sure no one's trying to steal anything? They choose the most suspicious old losers in the world who are tired of the gubiment taking their money to sit there and force a wrinkled face smile (which ultimately fails, and they just end up looking like a panting bulldog), but meanwhile, they're frisking you with their eyes and looking for stolen second-class linens and discount spoiled food products stuffed in your cavities. I may be used to people looking at my ass, but I'm trying to look out for the common man, here. James Pinney: Voice of the People. This isn't why I started talking about Walmart. I was trying to talk about strangers talking to me. I told you not to rile me up.

The reason I started talking about Walmart was because I went there to buy a poorly constructed set of plastic drawers to hold my clothes. So I'm carrying this thing out to my car, and this (surprise surprise) old lady passing by me in the parking lot shouts out, "Hey! How much that cost!?", to which I responded, "Shut up. You suck at life." Either that, or I said "About 18 bucks. " The look on her face was one of complete shock. If she is so impressed by the marvels of Walmart rolling back the values, I can't wait to see her reaction when someone tells her we've landed on the moon. But THEN. Then she gets a cock-eyed look on her face and proceeds to piss me off, after I've clearly averted eye contact to express my wish that she didn't exist, and asks me, "What you gonna use it for? Holding clothes?", as if she was confused as to what its purpose could possibly be. I was blown away. I looked down at this dresser drawer with the large label showing it stuffed full of shirts and pants, and looked back at her to wait for her to laugh. I even started to smile myself, but then I saw that she was awaiting my response. At that point, I started to cry inside. "Yes. I am going to hold my clothes in it." One might expect that to be the end of the conversation. I might expect this not to even be a valid conversation at all. But she had to get in the last word: "That's what I'm talking about!" You're right. That's exactly what you were talking about. And, unfortunately, you were talking to me about it. What if I had said no? What if I told her instead that it would hold various office supplies? What if I just tried to freak her out and told her nonchalantly it would hold my human limb collection? I couldn't bear to grant her any sort of emotional or tangible response, so I turned around and walked away. This is exactly why I'm not a religious person. If there's such a powerful God, why do I run into so many of His (or Her, BLASPHEMY) mistakes all the time? God must be the retarded kid in the class that doesn't get help from his parents or something. You know, like the kid that did the baking soda volcano diorama science project every year well into the 8th grade. And then, everyone feels bad, so they don't have the guts to tell the kid that that shit sucks. "Hey God, those humans! Looking pretty gooooood. I can tell you didn't have any help....great effort!" Someone just tell him the truth and put my mold back in the oven. Ahhh, atheistical heresy with simultaneous self indulgence. Frankly, it feels good.

If you still think I'm being ridiculous, consider this text message that I received one month ago (on that fateful night my blogging spirit was crushed). "Fwd: Today is national I LOVE U DAY. If u get this ur loved. Send this to 10 people in the next 143 min. Then check ur INBOX." I can't believe this was real. Guess who it was from? NO ONE IN MY PHONEBOOK. Just some random loser trying desperately to punch in 10 phone numbers so he feels loved by a phone company text message scam. Furthermore, I received this at 11:03 pm. What happens 143 minutes from 11:03? 1:26 am??? Oh man, I better hurry, before, uh, that happens. I hope the message that comes back to your INBOX is: "You're a waste of life you douchebag. No one likes you." I mean seriously. If u get this ur loved???!?!?!?! I wish it said like, "If u don't get this ur not loved," in case there was any confusion. Who starts this stuff??? I wonder if the first person to write it sat there waiting to get something in their Inbox. Like, "Maybe if I send this to enough people, someone will write back! I can spread love all over the world!" I'll write back. "Die. Slowly." And then, I'll spread my fist all over your face. Scientists need to find a way to increase idiot human mortality rates, because I just simply can't do this all by myself. Unbelievable.

Goodness, this one's getting pretty long, I've covered old people sucking (again), offeneded the existence of my own grandmother, reveled in non-me human stupidity (like always), and made entirely unacceptable religous comments, but I guess I owed it to you guys, if you even care to check this anymore. I can't guarantee my posts will be that frequent, but I'll try to make it faster than a month next time. Hope you have as crappy a day as I always have. Later.