WARNING TO READERS - THIS IS A NON-ART RELATED RANT. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED.
Okay, so you're my best friend and I love you to death, but you are fucking pissing me off. I know that you're used to being spoiled because your dad gave you almost everything you've ever wanted. And I'm very sorry that he passed away. But quit blowing through your inheritance or you're going to end up on the street before you know it! You seriously blew $7000 to have 10 pounds of fat removed? SEVEN-THOUSAND-FUCKING-DOLLARS for TEN POUNDS OF FAT?!?!?! THAT'S $700 PER POUND! And you know you're going to gain it all right back if you don't lay off the beer! OH MY FUCKING GOD!!!! I've been trying to be supportive and I have defended you and your personality to many people over the years, but tonight I lost it. I was using that piece-of-shit can opener that you told me to buy (in your typical this is more expensive so it has to be better quality thought process) and I was thinking about how I would like to show you that it was a piece of shit and I lost it. All I could think about was that you were sitting in your big, newly remodeled house, recovering from liposuction, deciding how to blow your inheritance some more while I was reduced to prying open a can of beans with a screwdriver. And I know I shouldn't be like this, but I'm pissed off. You're not even TRYING to save that house. You're just hanging out there until the bank forecloses on it and then, la di da, you're just going to take $100,000 and buy a new place and forget about the house that belonged to your dad. The money you spent remodeling that house (the house you're just going to GIVE BACK TO THE BANK) and the money you spent to have fat sucked out of your ass would damn near pay off my house. And if you think that temporarily removing those pounds is going to land you a guy, you're wrong. It's not your size. It's your goddamn loud, rude mouth that turns people off. I could smack you for being so snotty to my husband. "Well, maybe if you save up you could buy your wife a new set of dishes." Or, MAYBE, just fucking MAYBE the dishes I have are FINE and I'm not going to go buy something NEW if what I currently use isn't BROKEN. Yes, I like the other set, but I don't NEED it.
I love you like a sister and that's probably why I'm so angry with you. And that's also why I won't say these things to your face because I don't want to hurt you. BUT GOD DAMN IT! STRAIGHTEN UP!!! Your dad did NOT work his whole life just to have you blow his money on booze, cars, remodeling a house you're intentionally losing, and cosmetic surgery!!!!!!
And talking about the booze needs to stop. You know we don't drink in this house. You know WHY we don't drink in this house. You know that your dad died because the booze killed him. So why, why, why, why, WHYYYYY do you spend every weekend in the bar and only talk about drinking?
That guy you liked? He liked you too. Until you sent him a facebook friend request and your entire wall was covered in nothing but comments about which bar you were at and posting things like, "Where my alcoholics at??" Really? Come on. You're a better person than this.
You're pretty! You didn't need surgery. You're smart! You have a bachelor's degree. You have money! Quit blowing it. You're fun to be around! You don't need the booze to prove it. People would like you a lot more if you would quit acting like this spoiled, rich little know-it-all and just be the real you. The girl who is funny and loyal and generous. Not this rude, nipped'n'tucked, fake-ass small town socialite that you're trying to act like. What is happening to you? I'm running out of excuses for you, dear. And I'm not going to let you run off our other friends with your attitude. I'm sorry that I've had to lie to you lately about why we can't hang out, but I just don't have the heart to tell you, "Because you're pissing everybody off!"
I don't know what to do. I miss my friend, but maybe it would be better if you did move back to that other town where there's more bars and more people like you. We are at completely different stages in life. I have the husband and the kids to take care of, you have only yourself to worry about and which party you're going to attend. We're just not on the same page anymore. I can't just go hang out with you and go partying. That's not where I'm at in life. I've moved past that. And if that's where you want to stay, that's fine. But you don't have to talk down to me because of it.
I don't know what to do, but I feel better about letting out my frustration a little bit now.
I hope you come back to earth and start acting like my friend again.
And I smashed that can opener to pieces.
Listening to: The TV
Eating: Homemade Zuppa Toscana
Drinking: Diet Mt. Dew