The terrible girlfriend.

Welp, here at Cocktails at Tiffany’s, it’s fucking Friday. And that means, we like, we like to party. Am I right, or am I right? I showed up to work yesterday to find that Fatso has a new office. Right next to MINE. Great. Just wonderful. I spent the whole day with my door shut and my music on full-blast so I didn’t have to hear his nasal voice.

But enough about him, me and Gizzy have a special treat for you. Remember ShyGuy {the one I had the beach dream about Sunday night, then found out he spent the last five days on said beach with his gf}? He’s guest-blogging today, so read up little lovers. And a week from today marks the 100th post, so get your votes in!

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I used to live with this guy, let’s call him Randy, who is one of my best friends. He and I went to college together and both suffered from being chronically misunderstood. He’s been my closest friend since I moved to the Capital city. We moved in together in 2008 and lived together until this past summer.

The reason I moved out really had nothing to do with him. I was just tired of living in frat-style. Sure, having a full band in set up in the family room is pretty convenient for rocking out on a whim. And so is having a deer head on the wall adorning some small breasted woman’s brassier. I’ll even go so far as to say I can respect having nothing in the refrigerator to drink but beer and vodka.

Part of the reason I moved out was because I think I may have gotten dysentery from the kitchen. I mean it was awful. Food from weeks ago left out. Empty pizza and takeout boxes lying in a disheveled pile by the back door. Some unknown fungi growing from the disposal. I could have dealt with all that, but the straw that broke the camel’s back was when I came home from work one day and could not find a clean glass, or any other suitable container from which to drink (trust me, I’d gotten inventive before; bowls, empty bottles, a bongo drum at one point,etc.) to pour my 2% milk into. Shit does a body good.

But really the reason I moved out is much more disturbing than that.

Randy’s girlfriend sucks.

Like awe.ful.person.

Before I go into describing why said broad sucks the life out of everything good in the world, let me tell you about Randy.

Before, lets call her Disaster, showed up in his life Randy was awesome. He was always down for fun, always doing funny and eccentric musings, and would be a drinking buddy one hundred percent of the time. He was a guy’s guy. Ladies loved him because he’s unabashedly himself, and guys loved him because he’s fucking hilarious.

Randy met Disaster at a party of a mutual friend. They both grew up in similar areas but never ran in the same crowds. I use the term met very loosely because after their ‘one-night stand’, Disaster asked Randy if he knew her name. He knew it was either Disaster or Kim, and said Kim. Wrong and embarrassed Randy tried to make it up to her by taking her on a date (to make her feel more like a lady?) and the rest as they say is hell…I mean…history.

Come to find out later, Disaster totally goated him and had no idea what Randy’s name was until sometime later. At least Randy remembered her name…. a little bit! Everyone’s gotten a little drunk and forgotten someone’s name, right? RIGHT?

So Randy has been dating Disaster for almost two years now. Disaster goes to graduate school about two hours away (thank.god). But when she’s around she makes at least one, usually fifteen, nagging comments about how Randy never goes to visit her. Umm. Bullshit. Part of the reason we (his collective friends) hate her so much is because he drives to see her so often. Wretched.

I know women are a little sensitive to this issue so I’ll try to sugar coat her physical appearance as best I can. Disaster has big boobs.
And I just spent five minutes trying nearly helplessly to think of something else positive to say about her. I guess my revulsion of her really does run deep.

And even her boobs aren’t that great because since she’s started dating Randy, Disaster has let. Herself. Go.

But seriously. This broad is awful. Not really as a person, cause I don’t think she’s a spawn of Satan, but she’s just terrible for Randy. Let me count the ways. She’s a nag. She’s demanding. She’s rude to his friends (me) and his friends’ girlfriends (…). She’s blindly ignorant of issues directly relating to what she’s studying in graduate school. Her friends are not hot, nor are they fun; let’s not even get into how snooty those bitches are (what-the-fuck good is having a best friend with a girlfriend if you don’t wanna bang out some of her girlfriends- inciting infighting of friends?)

I think what bothers me most about her though is her sense of entitlement. Randy has told me on a number of instances that he loves living in the city. He wants to stick around here and is in no hurry to leave. Yet almost as soon as they started dating, Disaster started yapping about “when we move here” and “when we move there” as if she’s just expecting him to pick up his successful and gainful employment so she can chase some fantasy she has.

Actually, I lied. That’s not the thing about her that bothers me most. What bothers me most (and I’ve discussed this with the rest of our buddies also) is that whenever Disaster is around, Randy’s not himself anymore. Sure he’s himself literally, but a more vanilla version.

Vanilla is not a good color on a guy whose excellence was perpetuated by pushing the limits of both comfort and appropriate behavior. And by push the limits, I really mean a complete disregard of both.

But how do you tell a best buddy that the girl he’s been seeing, the girl he’s grown comfortable with, whose tricked him into thinking she’s accepted him for who he is, and whose willing to bang basically on demand, that she’s actually in fact a Disaster.

So far I’ve just sat on the sidelines and passive-aggressively made cunning jokes about her, of which only one or two she’s able to realize are directed toward her- and even then she thought I was just teasing her playfully. Think again, bitch.

I know part of the blame should be on Randy. He could stand up for himself and tell Disaster that he doesn’t want to be brought down. Sure some responsibility lies with him in this whole fiasco, but I honestly don’t blame him at all. He was single for a long time, and this sorceress Disaster has tricked him into thinking she’s the best he can do.

Well, I say fuck that, and fuck her. Actually don’t. I wouldn’t wish that on any penis.

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8 thoughts on “The terrible girlfriend.

  1. Dennis Hong says:

    Fuck that. As was demonstrated circa 1990, vanilla isn’t even good on ice.

    Seriously, dude, I’ve totally been in your position, so I feel ya. But, unfortunately, I don’t think there’s anything you CAN do.

    I think about all you can do is choose NOT to hang out with him when she’s around. I know it’s passive-aggressive, but you also can’t just lay down an us-or-her ultimatum. Maybe this way, he’ll eventually pick up on it….

    For what it’s worth.

  2. All of this reminds me of an episode of Bridezilla. heh

  3. I think this is what my ex boyfriend’s friends always thought of me, except add in drunk and fun and take out nag and demanding. So basically the opposite. Whew, I feel better.

    ShyGuy if you want to send us a picture of Disaster we will for sure post it and rip her to pieces.

  4. Reminds me of a gal my brother used to date. He escaped her only because he joined the army and was deployed.

    Don’t know what to think about that.

  5. wellmichele says:

    You make me laugh with your real life experiences, some I can relate to, so thanks for that!

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