5 Things Never to Say to Me

If someone were to describe me in 5 words or less, I believe "intolerant" would be one of them. I'll admit it. It's just that I've run into so many annoying people with so many inappropriate social habits, it's worn me down to hypersensitivity instead of numbness. These are 5 (of many) things never to say to me:

"Oh, did I order another wine? Gee, thanks for catching that." Oh, fucking Perrier people. Is there anything more pompous than walking around a party drinking a green bottle like it's a physical validation of self-righteousness? That's right. I know big words. Drinking alcohol instead of sodium bicarbonate doesn't make me any less of an intellectual. Oh, plus? It's way less distracting than opening up the cap of fizzy water every 10 seconds. Don't judge me and my lovely 3rd glass of red. I'm having one more, and naming the reason after your face.

I put a lot of effort and pride into my fashion sense. The fact that an article of clothing I've picked out is not only a common choice among my workmates, but is also available in basic colours like 'blue', is borderline offensive. Compliment my style, or shut up. I don't want to bond with you over our matching sweaters.

  Fuck you. I like my salt. I eat more salads and veggies and fruits (ok, maybe I need more fruits but still, SALAD AND VEGGIES) than you ever will, because chances are that if you think you have the right to comment on my sodium intake, you're on a failing diet and transferring your guilt onto my habits. Salt rules my world. Fat rules yours. Let's shake on it and call it a day.

Ok, I DIDN'T MEAN that I actually think it's boring. THE POINT is not to convince you that my life is dull. I'm TRYING to be humble. You're job is to act like I'm crazy for thinking it wouldn't interest you. Obviously I feel a bit insecure for sharing a sensitive story and need a bit of support. Perhaps if you ask a question, I could expand a bit more. Jerkface.

I might be dying because of what I just experienced and it took me about an hour to explain my sufferingly painful day. This might be my last living moment. Empathy is appropriate. A little tear, maybe (but make it tactful). An offer of chocolate or massage. Or, if you're hot, sex. Don't belittle me with your lame attempt to put things in perspective when I have little crosses for eyes.