The Prurient Interest is an account of my summer studying for the Bar Exam, and desperately trying to hold on to my sanity in spite of it. Today's post highlights how the intensely nerve-wrecking process can turn an average person into a hateful witch. With the exam less than a month away, tensions are running high.
July 1, 2010
Some people (usually women) annoy me to no end. But, before I launch into my rant, here’s what you need to know. I pretend to be this holier-than-thou young woman who generally likes everyone. The truth of it is, a lot of people annoy me. You know that feeling you get? You know -- when it feels like something is grating against your nerves and all those unbelievably visceral comments that are usually quite easy to keep in check seem to take on a life of their own and start pressing against your tongue like water against a dam, constantly searching for the slightest crack so it can burst forth unrestrained -- completely mindless of the devastation it might cause. On a normal day, I can slap a smile on it and grin my way past just about any nuisance. Ah, the sweet bliss that is oblivion and genuinely not giving a *&^%. But, on those days when I’m already slightly annoyed, it seems like my inner beast is just looking for any annoyance to snag itself onto and any excuse to, well, blow the dam straight to hell. So let’s make a game of it, shall we?
Annoying Person #1: The Skinny female dog That’s Unbelievably Full of Herself
You know who I’m talking about. Rail thin with impossibly long legs, the skinny female dog that’s unbelievably full of herself thinks she’s a model. She has countless pictures on Facebook chronicling her fabulous life, and she’s wearing one of those obnoxious two piece string bikinis (with low rise bottoms) in approximately 86.7% of them. These pictures range from her sitting on the train to tanning on a beach someplace, and she strikes the perfect model pose (sing along with me guys) everytime! Pout, snap. She learned to do this by watching every single episode of America’s Next Top Model. Incredibly self-absorbed, she makes comments like, “I can’t even change my profile picture in peace now?!” and “Don’t hate me because I’m beautiful!” She’s the kind of girl that you love to hate, and she loves that you hate her. Surrounded by her pack wolves/BFFs, other skinny bitches that are unbelievably full of themselves, she’s trapped in her own little world where life is nothing but a stage and she’s the star. They go to fabulous parties in fabulous dresses and drink fabulous cocktails. And there is ALWAYS a camera on hand to capture to magic and ephemeral beauty of their ever fleeting youth. She makes you wonder if it’s actually possible for one person to be enamored with herself. I mean, I fake like a have high self-esteem and whatnot (because that’s what we’re supposed to do, right?), but at the end of the day, I know it’s all bull. I’m insecure as @#!*!
That’s why the skinny female dog that’s unbelievably full of herself must defend her secret weapon, her looks and her body, at all costs. I imagine that being fat is just about the worst thing that could happen to her. She’d rather be diagnosed with cancer – then she’d really be thin from within! Yay! Pout, snap. I don’t have proof, but I imagine she’s hunched over a toilet somewhere sticking a toothbrush down her throat. Of course, she claims to naturally be thin and speculates that she must have an unusually high metabolism. She emptily pines for a few extra pounds (although I suspect she’s secretly disgusted by fat people). She needs to know that she is better than you and, quite frankly, she is. That was easy enough to admit. I just don’t have the drive or determination to starve or puke myself skinny, or work out for hours a day. I mean, I wouldn’t mind losing some weight. Why not? That would be wonderful. But actually working at it? Maybe some other time. My gut is slightly obnoxious, but that’s why God invented Spanx. Nothing tastes as good as thin feels? female dog, introduce yourself to bacon.
Which begs the question: why am I “friends” with this person if I find her so annoying? Well, because she’s right: I do want to be like her. I wish the camera loved me. I wish I had 2,000 “friends” and went to amazing parties in high heels and fabulous outfits. I wish I could wear those ridiculously skimpy bathing suits without looking like Shamu. I wish my life consisted of a string of parties and trips to sandy beaches. I wish my life were interesting and fabulous enough to be chronicled, posted for the world to see. And that’s the most annoying trait of them all.