Early this week, due to reformatting, a perviously-hidden section of my favorite message board was readable for about an hour. This section was the Locker Room message board of ten or so men, with a series of conversations about people in the improv community. There was, in fact, a brief discussion about me. I'll try to make it...less horrible:
A: Proxy is annoying me at the moment. What a paradigm of promiscuity.
B: I agree. Let's 300 her Xerxean ass (Proxy-altered to show pop culture allusive skills and highlight general comic-tardation of group)
C: Huzzah. Additional biting commentary.
D: Or perhaps we might fornicate her to the point of silence, what say you all?
Now, I'm actually not bothered by the lion's share of this. It wouldn't be the first time...and frankly, if the worst thing you can think of is 'she's a slut! haHA!", well, yay. So no-one thinks I'm fat or stupid. Just sexually active. Awesome.
All joking aside, I cried (still crying, actually), I'm hurt, and I'm incredibly pissed that I can't be as nice as I want to be at the theater; apparently my manners and friendly conversation translates to "Beware: Working Girl". I like being nice. But not when this shit happens.
....as a final note, if I were less moral, I'd probably let Audi and Jess fly out here and meet the men in question. But the fewer assault charges (however justified) the better. Which is why, Jess/Audi, if you're reading, I didn't mention this to you.
9 comments:
Proxy, baby...
they are douchebaggy little boys. oh, no... wait! They're cockroaches that can't stand the light of day and scurry away when you flip on the lightswitch.
I'm betting they're re-enacting the end scene of "Cruel Intentions" with everyone holding copies of their dirty little diary and giving them the stink-eye, right before the principal comes up and confiscates their crucifixes full of blow.
Or they're Glenn Close at the end of "Dangerous Liasons" at the opera, where everyone points at them and hoots and hisses.
The best thing about this is now you KNOW what they've been saying. They've been nasty little pricks for a while now. You're just aware of it, finally.
I could ALMOST have killed you...if you ruined movies that I hadn't watched. You're a lucky man.
Sadly, i don't know exactly what they said. I DO know that I cried, and nice people don't make girls cry. Except with joy from, say, gifts of diamond-covered kittens.
It's like the end of "The Greatest Story Ever Told," when Jesus comes back from the dead.
Whoops!
I'll be there in a month. Be sure to point fingers.
There are many that would beat the craps. I do agree that knowing who the losers are is useful, although painful.
Hendo, she's not going to bang you, you can cool it.
For the sake of artistic fairness, I'm letting y'all post all your comments...but for the record, my family DOES read this.
Have a good night, kids. no fighting on my opus.
I might suggest that those guys didn't make you cry... or they didn't mean to. The guy who told you about it did.
Why would he even do that? It's like reading someone's diary and then blabbing about what you read.
Is it wrong to write personal things or is it wrong to read them and then pass the hurtful information (which was supposed to private) onto innocent people?
We all say bad things about each other in private. Even family members do that. But to tell someone something that you know will hurt them in order to make other people look bad... and I guess, make yourself look like some noble champion by comparison... is worse than writing bad things in private, I think.
I don't think that these guys meant to hurt you because they assumed you'd never read it. The guy who told you KNEW it would hurt you.
So who's the bad guy here?
Ok, Maybe I was too subtle last night.
Unless you're posting comments on my blog about, say, my BLOG, fight elsewhere.
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