New Sitcom Idea: Desperate Security Guards

On Tuesday night, I went to visit a friend of mine at her small suburb in Bayamón. Most of these suburbs have surveillance at the front entrance and a dim-witted-minimum-wage-working security guard who isn’t usually an ass. I once read the requisites for this particular position in the newspaper and you basically need to know how to read, write and not drool when you sleep. Wow, suburbs of the world … be safe for thou art in great hands! The non-drooling specimen shall liberate you from the hands of runaway cars and broken fences with the skill of less than mediocre grammar! Hoo-rah!

Being a security guard is an honorable job, I have nothing against them. It is one specific mind decaying being that I am targeting in this blog. Had I gotten his name, I would have posted it in neon lighting and sketched him out with “Loser” as the main caption. But alas, I am without evidence of his existence so I do what I do best: rant and judge.

When I got to the gate, I identified myself and indicated with clarity the street I was visiting, the person and even added the purpose. He took his time to write down the information and blurted out a “God bless you” through the speaker. At this moment in time I was thinking to myself “That was odd”, but continued driving. Why is that odd?? If you live here in Puerto Rico, you usually don’t say that to anyone unless you are talking to an older person. It’s an idiotic misconception that all older people believe in God and thus enjoy this expression and consider it respectful. I use to get smacked on the head if I didn’t tell my uncles “Dios te bendiga” every time they walked through the door. Did I sound old on the speaker? Did he assume I was overly religious? Was he? But I quickly brushed it off, our relationship was simple and quick: I confirm, you let me pass. It isn’t rocket science or neurology.

So the moment had come for our relationship to come to an abrupt end. I was passing through the gates and an open road waited for me to venture on it. I looked to my left to give a quick signal of gratitude and adieu until the specimen’s eyes widened to a scary length and he vomited pathetic proclamations of love to me through my slightly opened window. He said “Oh wow, I think I just fell in love. Stop right there.. let me talk to you and get your phone number, ma’m.” I looked at him in horror, panic and disbelief. My reaction was to halt my car at the sight of his uniform, it looked official. Then I remembered the requisites I had read in the newspaper that long time ago and thought “They pay this man to not drool.” So I quickly tried to roll up my windows and played the roll of a deaf mute with a retarded right hand that couldn’t roll up a stupid window!

”Damn you 80’s Pontiac!! Why don’t you have electric windows like the rest of
the modern world?! Dammit Jess, this is no time to scream at your car… drive
faster.”

If his spewing of love vomit wasn’t enough, he thought he could out run my car. Nice going moron. My car is old and not very speedy, but I think it could out run your beer belly. How desperate do you have to be to run after a phone number? I think you have to get out of the stone-age mindset, because girls now-a-days don’t like being chased, scared and then clogged on the head with your stupidity.

You idiot. Die.

Hairy chests and female penises

A few weeks ago I decided that I was tired of my extra fat and decided that I would enroll in a gym and lose it. Prior to that, I had gotten sick and commenced my road to weight loss and no one seem to notice or care. But since I’ve been at the gym, I’ve gained a little bit of more muscle on my arms and legs and I’m starting to look fit. So, random people who have seen me have started to ask me if I take any illegal supplements (steroids) in order to get the desired effect. Some have gone as far as to imply that I have an eating disorder and that I should see a psychologist.

How stupid is it that the moment you start losing weight or getting into shape, people automatically assume you have an eating disorder or you’re taking steroids? Is our society so messed up that anyone who seeks to maintain a healthy lifestyle will be automatically shunned and shoved into an abnormal category? Would you feel more comfortable if I decided to add to my fatty reserves? Stupidity, I tell you. I mean, I would understand it if I had a history of anorexia or if I have abused illegal substances before. I wouldn’t blame you for asking if you noticed my body hair was growing to disgusting lengths and all of a sudden I had to wear baggy pants in order to hide my newly acquired penis. But I’m not muscular, I’m not skinny and I’m not sick looking, so where does the evidence of these accusations lie? In stupidity.

I’m even going to help you out, and draw you a diagram. You may ask me if I’m taking steroids or if I have an eating disorder if I ever look like this:

With no basis for such an accusation, a comment like “Wow Jess, you’re thin you must be throwing up” makes you look stupid. “Wow, how did you know? Can you smell it in my breath?” How about I flip you off with the same finger I use to make myself gag? How about that?

Hate mail brewing in Hater's Kitchen.

Within a few minutes of writing my previous blog, I got my very first hate mail, or should I say comment. Someone by the alias of “darkstar” (or was it dickstar?) thought my entry seemed “arrogant” and the poor soul thought he would be doing humanity a great service if he documented his antagonistic opinion on my blog. It read something like this:

My, my, my, I can at least love a stupid person in their ignorance. I have no
love for arrogant, conceited bitches... Pretty skin can not hide an ugly mind...

Oh my God. You are so right. What was I thinking? Thank you my sweet angel for saving me from the road of self destruction. From here forth I shall match my beautiful skin with a beautiful inside and forever be loved by all.

Not.

Apparently, Mr. Fruity Star must have single handedly assumed he was being shoved into the IS category, in which case he must have some valid symptoms to go with his hypothesis. Congratulations you’re an idiot and you saved me the troublesome diagnosis process.

Now, what if we followed Captain Dickstar’s advice and “loved a stupid person in their own ignorance”? Would this be contributing to the greater moral good? Is there even such a thing? No. Even the bible talks about the importance of being shrewd and how the ones lacking of reasoning will fair badly. I’m just helping the last part come along a lot quicker.

If you are a person who has not realized how intelligence in our society has gone down hill and think everything is the way it should be, then you are part of the problem. My blog is going to be used as a release for people who have encountered future IS patients and wish to voice their harsh opinions on how future generations are a gene away from being empty potato sacks. It’s a productive way of liberating frustrations and avoiding violence to be released on these people. The only way to save these people, is to treat their stupidity as a disease. I might even be saving lives. How many times have you said to yourself “What an idiot! I’ll kill that son of a b***?” Well imagine if you had a place to talk about it and therefore saving you 30 years in prison?

Writing a blog like mine should be considered community service. I should win a Nobel Prize. Don’t agree? Then you probably have Imbecile Syndrome.

And our journey together begins...

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