This morning I woke up in a good mood and thought, “I’ve a hankerin’ to doodle.” When I logged on to facebook, I was notified of a friend’s birthday. Opportunity! So I doodled. And I posted. Shortly after, I received a chat message: “Boo! Why didn’t I get a robot?” Followed by a winking smiley, as if to say, “Just kidding!” But not. Because I know you and I know you’re not winking and smiling and saying, “Just kidding!” I know you’re feeling petulant and legitimately questioning why you aren’t special enough to warrant a personal birthday doodle. So, even though I don’t owe you fuck-all of an explanation, I thought I’d clear some things up in regard to the rules of engagement with a pookie.
This is why you didn’t get a robot:
1) Because you routinely say shit like, “Why didn’t I get a robot?”
2) Because I didn’t feel like drawing a fucking robot on the day I woke up and it was your birthday.
3) Because you had the gall to pretend you were joking when I know you weren’t. If you want something from me, be straightforward. I don’t like games.
4) Because now I don’t like you. Because you think that knowing me a decade ago and having been my facebook friend in between then and now somehow entitles you to extra attention on my part.
You know, I’ve tried to avoid this blog becoming my personal rant-platform, because there are enough negative events going down in the world right now that merit actual concern a whole lot more than some whiny girl’s first world problems. But goddamn, I am sick and fucking tired of some of you.
Your assumptions are out-of-line. You don’t know me anymore, or maybe you never really have. Where were you when I needed a couch to crash on? Did I ever once call you for professional advice? Did I ever once call you to tell you major life news before I posted it on one of my social media pages? Have we ever had a sleepover, and have I ever asked you your opinion on any subject that was weighing heavily on my heart? Have I ever baked you a birthday cake, and have I ever invited you into my home just to sit around and shoot the shit? Do we have anything in common that’s more relevant than a couple anecdotes based on drunken experiences we shared almost a decade-and-a-half in the past?
In regard to acquaintances, I do adore some of them, so this is not meant to alienate anyone who doesn’t have daily contact with me. And some people with whom I have rich relationships and long pasts, but who would choose to act manipulatively and, in my opinion, with a complete disgusting lack of regard for my feelings…this applies to those people, too.
Some Helpful Guidelines
- You don’t ever get to use my dad, or his death, as leverage to guilt me into doing something that suits you. UN-FUCKING-ACCEPTABLE.
- You don’t ever get to guilt me, period. If I can do something, I’ll do it. If I can’t, I don’t need you hanging around trying to make me feel guilty because I can’t attend your meeting/wedding/party/bbq/girl’s night.
- You may not draw me into your personal drama to convince me I should “take your side. I don’t negotiate with emotional terrorists.
- Don’t assume you know the details of my financial situation. Do you know that every concert I’ve been to in the past eight years has been because I got free tickets? Do you know that the majority of my vacations and trips have been paid for by friends who knew I couldn’t afford a trip, but wanted me there so much they funded the trips? Do you know that, beyond the $6/hr average I made writing the pilot, that I haven’t actually made any money from it because the network is forcing us through arbitration for credit and payment? Do you know that my rent in LA is probably at least double what your mortgage payment is in the state where you live? Do you know what my bank account balance is?
In closing, don’t be a dick. Don’t make assumptions. Don’t try to guilt-trip people into doing things with or for you, because that’s just a bullshit method of recruitment all-around.
And know this: You will never, ever fucking get a robot from me, birthday-themed or otherwise. And that’s your doing.