It takes a big man to cry, but it takes an even bigger one to punch that guy then kick him while he’s down.

June 15, 2007

You know how sometimes you can just look at someone, and without even exchanging some much as eye contact with them, easily determine that they’re a douchebag? They just have a certain way about them that screams “I’m a fucking prick!”


There are plenty of people that I don’t get along with—whether it be as a result of a disagreement, personality clash, or even my big fucking mouth. While I may not like them, find them annoying, vice versa, or other, I’m aware that there’s nothing intrinsically bad about them—I just don’t like them.


However, there’s a certain breed of human that I can just look at and tell that they’re an all around shitty person. They carry a certain holier than thou aura about them that’s usually given away by small, normally unnoticed quirks about them.


Case in point: There’s a new fellow that works at my office. He appears to be in his early thirties, well-dressed and accessorized (read: nice watch and vintage leather laptop bag). I take the same bus as him every day, so I happen to see this peacock interact with the masses on a daily basis. Everyday, he has to be first in line to the bus. Today, he was first in line but when the very light sprinkle of rain started coming down, he covered his head with his newspaper and rudely pushed his way through the line and displaced an old lady in an area where there was cover. I was so tempted to say “Phew! Close one there—you almost got your inch-long hair a little wet!” Not exactly a grade-A zinger but effective enough to make him feel like a peice of shit.


Upon arriving at work, he pushed his way to the front of the bus to get off first. We all walk into the warehouse-turned-office building and I follow behind him to the cafeteria. I pick up a breakfast wrap and get behind him in line to pay. He looks at my wrap and sneers a little then orders a super-half-caf non-fat, low-calorie, frothy caramel soy latte (take note: the ONLY time it’s ok to drink one of these is when your girlfriend offers you a sip of hers. Otherwise you’ll grow a vagina), then starts getting pissy with the woman behind the counter when his masterpiece of a fucking coffee takes more than 30 seconds to create.


This isn’t just a case of someone waking up on the wrong side of the bed—it’s a daily occurrence. I’ve never seen anyone with such an obvious case of only-child syndrome in my life, and I’m an only child. This is the type of adult that has temper tantrums. The type of person that puts himself before anyone else, in any situation, regardless of the circumstances. The type that never holds doors open for people, but gets pissed off when no one holds it for him. This is also the type of person that goes home, gets naked, covers himself in rose petals and jerks off to pictures of himself on a daily basis.



I, however, have only done that twice.


One Response to “It takes a big man to cry, but it takes an even bigger one to punch that guy then kick him while he’s down.”

  1. jayphill said


    what a prick

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