People who worship only themselves get a slick, polished look, like monuments. Too bad they had to go so soon. –Vanna Bonta, Degrees: Thought Capsules

Listen, I have to preface with something before I even really start this blog: I love most people. I sincerely do. I’m really, annoyingly good at finding the good in others. And to be honest, I work really, really hard at that because I genuinely feel like people, most people, deserve it. But even I, a free loving, tree hugging, gay marriage supporting, police department backing, and ever equality advocate, have my limits.

I have this serious issue with people who are just insanely, irrevocably arrogant. You all know exactly the people I’m talking about; the girls that post shameless and ridiculous selfies on Instagram like, daily because they just have to share their #OOTD with you or they simply cannot complete their morning routine. Those really grossly over-muscled men that stand in front of the free weight rack at any gym in creation and seem to incessantly flex the same muscle over and over again (and this seems to only occur, some crazy how, when I’m trying to find the goddamn weights I need). Those relatively attractive men who seem to be completely aware of how attractive they are and as such, have an incessant need to make other people aware of it too. Or those people who are convinced that their opinion, whatever it’s regarding, is essentially the end all be all and as such, feel the urge to just post all about it on Facebook and Facebook’s evil cousin, Twitter. I mean, how else would everyone on the internet know who these apparent geniuses are voting for during the US Presidential Election or what various political avenues they back? How else would we know what celebrities they despise and what football teams they root for? How could we get through life if we didn’t know whether they were for #blacklivesmatter, #alllivesmatter, or #bluelivesmatter? 

How would we know these things if people weren’t so goddamn boisterous and overconfident about their opinions? HOW WOULD WE EVER GET THROUGH THE DAY?! I guess it’s a good thing for those people (and me) that we all live in America. So far, none of that nonsense, no matter how despicable or annoying, is illegal. But personally, I just think it’s sort of poor Facebook etiquette. But hey, you know, to each their own.

I just have this thing about people who go out of their way to impress me. And I’m not referring to people who are genuinely educated or beautiful, people who have competed in really awesome athletic races or have completely changed their body chemistry because of hard work and close macro monitoring. I’m not talking about people who have worked really hard to earn a Master’s degree or people who have opened their own business and become successful. I’m not talking about people who randomly share their political opinions or post a #TransformationTuesday collage on Instagram. 

I’m talking about people who think they’re better than everyone else. People who almost certainly believe that their opinions are gospel. People who post Instagram photos that have been so heavily filtered, it probably looks nothing like the original picture. I’m talking about people who brag relentlessly about things that don’t actually matter but are used as a tool to make other people feel bad. I’m talking about people who feel that being obviously attractive gives them license to act like a total jerkoff and justifiably be unapologetic about it. I’m talking about people who jump on whatever the most popular bleeding heart, hot button issue is and claim to have backed it since the beginning. 

Whatever it is, just save it. I don’t want to hear about it. You aren’t impressing me. You’re annoying me and you’re making yourself unapproachable. And it’s not because people are intimidated by you or afraid to go up against you in an argument, it’s because you’re loud and aggravating and we all have better things to do with our limited time. 

How much lighter fluid can I take on the plane? And before you answer, remember, I’m a celebrity. –BoJack Horseman, BoJack Horseman  

I was once sort of dating this man who was like, really, painfully into himself. And to be honest, I never really understood it and I still don’t, looking back on it now. He was friendly in an I-want-to-sleep-with-you kind of way but his conversational skills didn’t seem to extend far beyond that and Sting Ray Corvettes. I have to admit that, to his credit, he was moderately attractive but he was also a moderately attractive mess. (Notice, if you will, that I didn’t use the popular phrase “hot mess”. There’s a reason for that. On a scale of Steve Buscemi to David Beckham, he was about a John Cusack.) But I have to say that in his defense, he was well put together. He insisted on biweekly haircuts and only wore the most expensive clothing brands, sporting Burberry Polos and True Religion jeans to places like the Round Up. To be honest, I was never really sure how he afforded all these status enhancing wardrobe items when he was a full time student with no job. But I guess that isn’t really the point. And although I’m still curious about it to this day, it’s relatively unimportant. 

The thing about him was that although he was actually a decent amount of fun to be around, for the most part, he got on my nerves. And let me tell you why because I swear to goodness, you’ve seen it out there in your travels. He is one of those men that’s barely five-foot-five but somehow puffs out his chest in public like he’s well over six-feet. He’s just barely taller than my grandmother but he carries himself like he’s taking part in an Expendables movie. (I kind of never got that with men on the shorter side. And you know, to be honest, I’m married to some who’s 5’7” and he’s just a normal guy. He works out at the gym like a regular person, he doesn’t talk a lot of shit because he doesn’t have a Napoleon complex, and he doesn’t act like he’s bigger than he is because he doesn’t care what people think. He’s comfortable with how he looks and he doesn’t boast about anything. But whatever, we can’t all be perfect.)

He is one of those individuals who went to college on an athletic scholarship but acts like he’s God’s gift to absolutely everything, including academics, even though that’s not even what got him into school. He is the type of alleged gentleman that claimed he was such an amazing vocalist that he would qualify for American Idol. And honestly, I don’t think he believed he would just qualify. I think he felt he really had the vocal capacity to win the entire competition. He is the brand of idiot man that insisted on bragging about the size of his reproductive organs because he was under the misguided misconception that girls actually care about such things.

Listen friends, I wish I was being funny right now. I wish that I was joking about how momentous of a bragger this guy was when I knew him. I wish it was all just playful sarcasm to make my blog more interesting and laughable but I have to tell you, all of the aforementioned paragraph is true. I just wrote with one hundred percent accuracy, not to brag or anything…

And the even worse part about all of this, the part that is hilarious and perhaps the cruelest joke of all is that he lied about that last thing. He lied big time. 

Ah, how the seeds of cockiness blossom when soiled in ignorance. –Steve Allen, The Loch

I had this other friend, a female friend, who I met through a friend of my husband’s. She seemed nice enough, kind of shy in the beginning, actually. She was pleasant enough to be around but not anyone that I really missed when she stopped calling me. She was mediocre at best and I say that not to be hurtful but rather to put things in perspective. She was just a regular person with an average personality. She was always picking stupid fights with her boyfriend and crying in public because he was allegedly so mean to her. She was pretty but not in a way that gave her license to chronically act like a spoiled brat and she was always on this endless journey of self-improvement, or so she claimed. She was just a regular petite blonde from Jacksonville. Nothing to write home about. 

And again, let me clarify: I’m not trying to be deliberately hurtful or act like a mean girl sitting here behind my computer. I’m just stating facts.

She was this monstrously outrageous picky eater and I seriously cannot stress that enough. She did this thing where she always sent her food back because there was apparently always something wrong with whatever it was she ordered, and then she would whine about the waiter not comping the bill. It used to make my husband crazy to the point where he would lean into me at the table and whisper, “If you ever pulled that shit, I would never take you anywhere…” Luckily for both of us, I don’t have a delicate palate. One time, at someone’s birthday, which was held at this ridiculously expensive and totally ordinary restaurant, she sent back a Long Island Iced Tea. Because it was too strong. I wish you could see the face I’m making right now.

Anyway, after enough fighting and crying about how terrible her boyfriend supposedly was, she finally quit making the rest of us miserable and broke up with him. She later claimed that he was into drugs or steroids or something but honestly, I would take his word over hers any day of the week. Her whole thing was she wanted attention and I honestly believe that if she couldn’t make it work with someone normal like my husband’s friend, she had no other choice but to make him look bad. I mean, I don’t know the whole story; I only know what I’ve been told and what I’ve witnessed. That’s just my opinion of her and I have to insert this disclaimer that my observation may not be accurate. (… but I’m pretty sure it is.)

Well, after she finally broke up with my husband’s friend and moved on with her life (and I use that phrase very loosely), it was like she instantly developed all this out of nowhere self-esteem. All of a sudden, she started reportedly working out on a daily basis and had morphed into this redneck little gym rat. And to be fair to my husband’s friend, all of that sort of bothered me because he was going to school to be a nutritionist (and he actually later switched his major over to registered nursing). He was really into fitness (which was why he and my husband had so much in common) and was very diligent about working out and dieting. He even refused to drink most of the time because he was really careful with his caloric intake and alcohol was something he had labeled “empty calories”. I remember, he would work out really early every morning before he went to his job (in retail) and she was absolutely convinced that although he was claiming to be working out, he was almost certainly cheating on her. She was always telling me, “I know he isn’t really working out; he’s probably meeting up with his ex-girlfriend.” Yes, yes that’s exactly what was going on. I’m so sure that he was waking up at five or six in the goddamn morning to meet up with his mistress. Get out of here with that nonsense.

So anyway, she all of a sudden was so obsessed with working out, even though she incessantly criticized her ex-boyfriend for it when they were together, and she starts posting all these videos about the alleged workouts she’s doing. Now listen, I’m not an athlete in any regard. I’m a musician and I work out because I have to, not because I want to. But my husband is a hustler in the gym and he makes me work really hard. The videos she was posting on her Instagram were of her doing sit-ups on a decline bench. That doesn’t make you a gym rat, honey. You’re bragging for absolutely no goddamn reason. And just another little thing I would like to add, if you look super cute in the gym, especially after a workout, you ARE NOT working hard enough.

I go 3-5 times a week and I hate it so much, I refuse to label myself as a gym regular. I will be straight up with you: I would rather be at home on my couch watching American Horror Story. But then again, I’m not an attention whore hell-bent on making my ex-boyfriend jealous even though I’m the one that ended the relationship. Women are seriously crazy. This is going to be the one and only time I defend men but seriously, I don’t know how men get through the day. I actually even feel a little sorry for some of them.

And just another little tidbit about this woman who went out of her way to incessantly impress her Instagram and Snapchat followers: her ex-boyfriend told my husband that she used to check herself into the LA Fitness by their house (because their apartment complex was within walking distance of it) on Facebook while they were sitting around together at home. She wanted people to believe she was working out even though she was at home doing nothing with her life. Even though her boyfriend was at home with her and could easily confirm her whereabouts. She was apparently so insecure and so willing to boast her gym life inaccurately that she tagged herself at the gym even though she probably hadn’t set foot in there in weeks. 

She also used to post these videos on her Instagram about how pathetic, or “thirsty”, as she called it, girls were for wanting to “snuggle and cuddle” with their significant others. I also found this particularly hysterical because she used to cry to me every time I saw her that she wanted a baby and wanted to get engaged to my husband’s friend. But once she changed her whole world around and resorted to the single life, those girls, who were exactly like her when she had a boyfriend, were pathetic and “thirsty”. You want to know what’s tragic? Using the word thirsty in place of the word pathetic. Read a book. The world we live in today; I can’t even. 

Moral of the Crazy: I know that my aforementioned story sounds really cold-hearted and to be fair, this girl never really did anything to me in particular. Our friendship just sort of fizzled out when she dropped her boyfriend and I was okay with that, honestly. Maybe she was too since I was one of those “thirsty” hookers who only wants to spend time cuddling with their boyfriends or husbands. Guilty, mother fucker! I had a really good friend that used to say, “That’s the kind of thing people say when they aren’t happy in their own life,” and that’s probably pretty accurate in this situation.

I just have no tolerance for this flamboyant, incessant need to be pretentious for no apparent reason. I mean, that’s why everybody supposedly hates LeBron “King” James, right? Because he’s a peacock that cries every time his finger jams? I mean, this constant need to brag, friends, it’s an epidemic! It’s taking over the world. 

You never really learn much from hearing yourself speak. –George Clooney

I even see it at work. There is this one gentleman I work with who is super, super kind and caring. I’m not his supervisor and I don’t work with him every single day but it seems like, from where I’m sitting, that he’s pretty darn good at his job. However, he does this thing where he takes over every conversation. Have you ever encountered those people who have been everywhere and done everything? He is one of those guys. You can barely get a word in edgewise. 

He was a cop for however many odd years and feels an incessant need to speak from a law enforcement point of view, regardless of the situation, even though he isn’t in law enforcement anymore. He also does this weird thing where he “accidentally” leaves his Sheriff’s Office badge around his neck from when he moonlights there as a part time counselor. But honestly, I don’t think it’s accidental because he has to point it out to everyone, in case we didn’t happen to notice. He was also allegedly (and honestly, it’s probably true but with him I can’t really tell for sure) in the military for this many years and did this many tours. So whenever we have a client who is even remotely connected to the military, this guy takes over the dialogue and reminisces with the client to make him or her “more comfortable”. It’s like this whole “I get you, you can trust me, we come from the same place” thing. I feel like sometimes it can make other people look bad. Because maybe we don’t have the same background stories, you know?

Listen, this guy is super sweet as pie and like I said, probably fairly decent at his job. And to his credit, he does have a different perspective so his prior employment and familiarity with the military, etc. has probably only bettered his client’s experience. But like, I get it; you were a cop and in the military. I haven’t forgotten because you like to remind us all of it on the daily, so if we had made the mistake of forgetting, you’d be there to set the record straight, wouldn’t you!? Ugh, these people. I cannot.

Friends, listen. 

I have no problem with people expressing their opinion [in a respectful way] because we’re all entitled to it, right? I have no problem with people being confident about things that they have legitimate reasons to be confident about. I have even less of a problem with people who carry themselves with class and confidence because they know they’re attractive, they know they’re intelligent and can bring awesome conversation to the table, and they know that they’ve got great dimples. I’m okay with all of that. It’s the ones that get carried away with themselves that I’m uncomfortable with.

It’s just that if you have to constantly point out how incredible you are, if it isn’t that obvious to other people, it’s probably not a real thing. If you have to post videos of yourself doing sit-ups to make people aware of the fact that you are obsessed with working out, you’re doing it for the wrong reasons. If you have to brag about your gentlemen parts or your sexual success rate with women, you’ve clearly got no game and that’s why you feel the need to point these things out to proverbial conquests. And if you can’t get through a day of work without mentioning your prior achievements, then maybe you aren’t getting what you need out of your current occupation.

Listen, I am no one. I’m no one and I’ve got only a few things to really offer society. And all those alleged gifts I’ve got, those seemingly sweet characteristics, they’re not anything that would blow anyone else out of the water. They’re just regular, wholesome, good traits that keep pushing me to do better. But all of those things, while some of them I’ve worked really hard at critiquing, despite how great they might be, I don’t throw in people’s faces. If I have to tell someone how magnificent I am, I don’t want to waste my time talking to them. They clearly can’t see my awesome attributes.

I just think that sometimes, the smarter you are, the less you speak. (And honestly, in my experience, the most mysterious, quiet individuals are the ones that are most brilliant.) The more dedicated you are to something, the more behind the scenes you are because you’re too busy honing your craft to be posting social media crap about it. The more you really care about a bleeding heart cause, the less you’re whining and vocalizing your opinion on Facebook because you’re out trying to mend fences in the community. It’s like one of my devout Catholic friends put so perfectly in a Facebook status (and I’m paraphrasing): Instead of bragging about all the things you donated to a charity, how about you just be selfless and donate? You shouldn’t need to be showered with appreciation for giving. Just give.

I’m not saying I don’t want to hear how great things are in your life because I love good news. Even when I hear good news about people I’m not fond of, I’m like, “You know what? Good for them.” I’m not saying that individuals aren’t entitled to be proud, I just think you’ve got to have something credible to back that shit up. I’m not saying you can’t be good in bed or have porn star-esque reproductive organs, you’ve just got to know how to use them. (And honestly, probably be quiet about it because it’s just not socially acceptable, as my mother would say.) I’m not saying that confidence isn’t sexy, that hard work shouldn’t be celebrated. I just want all of it to actually mean something. Don’t just give to get verbal appreciation for it. Don’t just talk to fill the air.   

And for the record, for all you bitter little biscuits reading this right now: A real lady doesn’t kiss and tell.

Stay classy, Pasco.

 The biggest challenge after success is shutting up about it. –Criss Jami