Horrible Travel Companion has, in the last eight hours, done all of the following:
1) Said a girl was definitely "not Spanish." When I challenged this by pinpointing her appearance and accent by region, she asked "what percent Spanish" I am. When I replied 25% but it's a core part of my identity and I have spent large amounts of time with my Spanish family, she stated that she only wanted a percentage and then sarcastically remarked that she doesn't know how Irish she is but considers herself "one thousand million percent" Irish and an authority on all matters therein. Hurray, ethnic percentages used to justify racism!
2) Insulted my vocabulary due to my high use of the word "presumably" and then suggested that someone needs to buy me a thesaurus. When I chafed at this, she announced that I had a huge stick up my ass.
3) Claimed she was probably going to get her period soon. Apropos of nothing, stated she "might rub [her] bloody vag all over [my] shit." That's a direct quote, too.
I can't believe people like this exist. I truly hope I encounter her just one more time at a party back home so I can tell her what a disgusting, simpering waste of human matter she is. Maybe that would entail fighting the boyfriend she keeps whining about wanting but not having. So much the better.
It sounds like bears fighting. Strangely it was at its most "virile" whenever I was reading up on Nero.
Here's what you should do - The next time you catch them at it, find a copy of Lady Chatterly's Lover, sneak near them, and start reading it aloud.
3) Claimed she was probably going to get her period soon. Apropos of nothing, stated she "might rub [her] bloody vag all over [my] shit." That's a direct quote, too.
I would have simply looked her square in the eye and said "Do your worst. Medical student, remember? My classwork requires me to do my time in the morgue as part of the first year, when they're weeding out the ones who might not be serious, and you think the threat of a little blood and uterine tissue scares me? Now fuck off."
Sadly(or maybe thankfully, considering that my advice usually isn't the smartest course to take) it may be a little too late to use that one. I understand your frustration, though - it's hard to deal with people who are either too stupid, too far up their own arse, or both to realize that they are not nearly the hot shit they think they are. Or maybe, rather, the hot shit they were in high school, and they don't realize that this isn't your high school with your little cliques and childish playground power games, it's university, and nobody gives a fuck about how great you think you are.
Just hold the line, man. Be steady, and don't give her anything to work with. Just stonewall her, don't even acknowledge her bullshit, at most, just give her a "Really, now?" look at go back to whatever you were doing before she started the bullying bullshit.
3) Claimed she was probably going to get her period soon. Apropos of nothing, stated she "might rub [her] bloody vag all over [my] shit." That's a direct quote, too.
Moving to Stage tomorrow night. I'm pretty sure the only way I'm going to make it through the next week is LOTS AND LOTS of tea. Not excited about tech week, even less excited that we get absolutely no downtime between the show closing and exams. I don't know why anyone ever decides to be a Stage Manager. You do horrible hours and all the bitchwork. Even my Stage Manager friend doesn't know why she's doing it.
I don't know why anyone ever decides to be a Stage Manager.
Nobody does. Stage Managers are of the rare breed that seems to enjoy the incredible torment of being stressed out 24/7 for weeks to months on end.
Not much in life makes me wish for a relationship just for the sake of it (not even valentine's day or Disney movies), but long hours in the theater and being exhausted all the time makes me wish there were someone consistently around/waiting at home for me that would talk about things other than the show and cuddle and drink tea. I have simple wants, really.
I don't know why anyone ever decides to be a Stage Manager.
Nobody does. Stage Managers are of the rare breed that seems to enjoy the incredible torment of being stressed out 24/7 for weeks to months on end.
Not much in life makes me wish for a relationship just for the sake of it (not even valentine's day or Disney movies), but long hours in the theater and being exhausted all the time makes me wish there were someone consistently around/waiting at home for me that would talk about things other than the show and cuddle and drink tea. I have simple wants, really.
Someone to make you dinner when you are busy as heck and sit on the couch to talk with you is one of the best parts of being in a relationship. It wouldn't even have to be a romantic relationship, it can be a platonic or a familial one. Just knowing that there is someone who's got your back is really comforting.
I don't know why anyone ever decides to be a Stage Manager.
Nobody does. Stage Managers are of the rare breed that seems to enjoy the incredible torment of being stressed out 24/7 for weeks to months on end.
Not much in life makes me wish for a relationship just for the sake of it (not even valentine's day or Disney movies), but long hours in the theater and being exhausted all the time makes me wish there were someone consistently around/waiting at home for me that would talk about things other than the show and cuddle and drink tea. I have simple wants, really.
Someone to make you dinner when you are busy as heck and sit on the couch to talk with you is one of the best parts of being in a relationship. It wouldn't even have to be a romantic relationship, it can be a platonic or a familial one. Just knowing that there is someone who's got your back is really comforting.
This. Definitely this. A million times this. I just really need non-theater friends right now, regardless of how great a lot of my theater friends are. Not that I'd mind the physical side of a romantic relationship right now, I really think it would help me blow off some steam. I wouldn't mind that one bit.
That's part of the reason I was a little edgy this weekend.
George, it's not gluteny. I can identify that easily. It's bloatey and sore and sometimes sore throat and just generally feeling bleah. I also got 5 hours of sleep last night, so there is a lot that could be combining here.
3) Claimed she was probably going to get her period soon. Apropos of nothing, stated she "might rub [her] bloody vag all over [my] shit." That's a direct quote, too.
Just hold the line, man. Be steady, and don't give her anything to work with. Just stonewall her, don't even acknowledge her bullshit, at most, just give her a "Really, now?" look at go back to whatever you were doing before she started the bullying bullshit.
Yeah, I know. Unfortunately, retorts about premed don't work because she's also premed, and I might end up pursuing a PhD anyway. She's taken to bashing me on not obsessively showering daily while on the trip (fucking sue me; I make sure I smell good, and when you're backpacking a little grime is expected and accepted), while I've just carried on stoically. All I've done is drop all my typical "lady in the room" filters so she's aware of the fact that I don't consider her such. I may not be able to call her a revolting fatbody who attempts to fill her emotional voids with cocks at this most critical junction, but I'm going to treat her as such. I'm particularly amused by her assumption, most always made aloud, that my behavior around her is my behavior around anyone at all, least of all women. My behavior around her is a sickeningly tasteless and mean humor I reserve for people I actively hate; I'd never act that way around girls I was interested in or people I cared about.
It doesn't help that she has a fundamental misunderstanding of how my friends and I operate, but what the hell. It's pointless attempting to explain my social dynamics to a cloistered suburban daddy's girl. I went to high school in Chicago. My best IRL friends are a mathematician who borders on reclusiveness, a playwright whose tendencies in dress and manner would have suited him better in Victorian London of 18th-Century California, a sex scientist/neuroscientist who directs medical questions regarding her sex activities at me, and a drop-dead-gorgeous prelaw student who likes to pepper me with questions about whether or not her breasts are looking good today and how to beat the last boss in the latest Dragon Quest game. I'm friends with some of Earth's coolest people by virtue of the internet, a form of friendship whose validity she cannot possibly comprehend. I'm a dual citizen of the EU and the US, I'll probably make a trip like this one every other year until I am too old to do so, and I had already seen an order of magnitude more of the world than her by the day I set foot in Newcastle.
We're from two entirely different worlds. My friends appreciate brutal honesty, weirdness, and a lust for life that her stunted little mind cannot possibly comprehend. That's okay. It's satisfying to know that I and those I am surrounded by are infinitely more interesting than her.
And that is why you really don't need to care. Now you just need to believe what you just wrote. ~_^
C'mon, don't tell me you've never been in a situation where a person exists who you could ignore, but whose mere presence and actions are so irritating as to make them impossible to "logically subtract" from your life experience.
And that is why you really don't need to care. Now you just need to believe what you just wrote. ~_^
C'mon, don't tell me you've never been in a situation where a person exists who you could ignore, but whose mere presence and actions are so irritating as to make them impossible to "logically subtract" from your life experience.
It takes patience, practice, and willpower.
Also, a healthy dose of "I can't fucking take it anymore - yes, fine, go drink your fucking raw milk."
You should put superglue on various items of your "shit," in case she does in fact rub her bloody vag on them. Let's see how much shit she gives you when she's got a bowling ball glued to her labia.
In lieu of superglue, you could just go with something caustic. You're a scientist - get creative.
And that is why you really don't need to care. Now you just need to believe what you just wrote. ~_^
C'mon, don't tell me you've never been in a situation where a person exists who you could ignore, but whose mere presence and actions are so irritating as to make them impossible to "logically subtract" from your life experience.
It takes patience, practice, and willpower.
Also, a healthy dose of "I can't fucking take it anymore - yes, fine, go drink your fucking raw milk."
You should put superglue on various items of your "shit," in case she does in fact rub her bloody vag on them. Let's see how much shit she gives you when she's got a bowling ball glued to her labia.
In lieu of superglue, you could just go with something caustic. You're a scientist - get creative.
Aqua regia? Piranha Solution? You'd need something slow-acting, or that activates only on contact with skin. Maybe something pathogenic? Bitch ain't gonna be laughing long when she rubs her junk all over clothes soaked in a culture of Herpes simplex II.
Last night I was convinced I had the flu because I felt really achy and fevery, and on top of that I've been having stomach issues the past few days, but when I woke up this morning I was fine. Now I'm starting to get a sore throat. I don't know what to think.
Comments
1) Said a girl was definitely "not Spanish." When I challenged this by pinpointing her appearance and accent by region, she asked "what percent Spanish" I am. When I replied 25% but it's a core part of my identity and I have spent large amounts of time with my Spanish family, she stated that she only wanted a percentage and then sarcastically remarked that she doesn't know how Irish she is but considers herself "one thousand million percent" Irish and an authority on all matters therein. Hurray, ethnic percentages used to justify racism!
2) Insulted my vocabulary due to my high use of the word "presumably" and then suggested that someone needs to buy me a thesaurus. When I chafed at this, she announced that I had a huge stick up my ass.
3) Claimed she was probably going to get her period soon. Apropos of nothing, stated she "might rub [her] bloody vag all over [my] shit." That's a direct quote, too.
I can't believe people like this exist. I truly hope I encounter her just one more time at a party back home so I can tell her what a disgusting, simpering waste of human matter she is. Maybe that would entail fighting the boyfriend she keeps whining about wanting but not having. So much the better.
Sadly(or maybe thankfully, considering that my advice usually isn't the smartest course to take) it may be a little too late to use that one. I understand your frustration, though - it's hard to deal with people who are either too stupid, too far up their own arse, or both to realize that they are not nearly the hot shit they think they are. Or maybe, rather, the hot shit they were in high school, and they don't realize that this isn't your high school with your little cliques and childish playground power games, it's university, and nobody gives a fuck about how great you think you are.
Just hold the line, man. Be steady, and don't give her anything to work with. Just stonewall her, don't even acknowledge her bullshit, at most, just give her a "Really, now?" look at go back to whatever you were doing before she started the bullying bullshit.
I don't know why anyone ever decides to be a Stage Manager. You do horrible hours and all the bitchwork. Even my Stage Manager friend doesn't know why she's doing it.
I JUST WANT TO MAKE PEOPLE PRETTY OKAY.
I have simple wants, really.
My voice has been is slowly but surely sounding normal. I've been keeping my chatter to a minimum. At least my throat isn't sore. Thank goodness.
Not that I'd mind the physical side of a romantic relationship right now, I really think it would help me blow off some steam. I wouldn't mind that one bit.
Feel better.
George, it's not gluteny. I can identify that easily. It's bloatey and sore and sometimes sore throat and just generally feeling bleah. I also got 5 hours of sleep last night, so there is a lot that could be combining here.
But yes, feel better!
It doesn't help that she has a fundamental misunderstanding of how my friends and I operate, but what the hell. It's pointless attempting to explain my social dynamics to a cloistered suburban daddy's girl. I went to high school in Chicago. My best IRL friends are a mathematician who borders on reclusiveness, a playwright whose tendencies in dress and manner would have suited him better in Victorian London of 18th-Century California, a sex scientist/neuroscientist who directs medical questions regarding her sex activities at me, and a drop-dead-gorgeous prelaw student who likes to pepper me with questions about whether or not her breasts are looking good today and how to beat the last boss in the latest Dragon Quest game. I'm friends with some of Earth's coolest people by virtue of the internet, a form of friendship whose validity she cannot possibly comprehend. I'm a dual citizen of the EU and the US, I'll probably make a trip like this one every other year until I am too old to do so, and I had already seen an order of magnitude more of the world than her by the day I set foot in Newcastle.
We're from two entirely different worlds. My friends appreciate brutal honesty, weirdness, and a lust for life that her stunted little mind cannot possibly comprehend. That's okay. It's satisfying to know that I and those I am surrounded by are infinitely more interesting than her.
Also, a healthy dose of "I can't fucking take it anymore - yes, fine, go drink your fucking raw milk."
You should put superglue on various items of your "shit," in case she does in fact rub her bloody vag on them. Let's see how much shit she gives you when she's got a bowling ball glued to her labia.
In lieu of superglue, you could just go with something caustic. You're a scientist - get creative.