Dickbag

“NICE GOING, DICKBAG,” he yells at a miscreant in traffic.

“Dickbag?”

“…I was trying to go for dickhead, or douchebag, but it came out wrong.  I don’t even know what a dickbag is.”

“It’s what’s left over after you tell someone to eat a bag of dicks.  I mean, they don’t transport themselves.”

Lalochezia

I have a terminal disease.   It fucking sucks, in case you were wondering.  Don’t get ALS, it’s a shitty thing and wrecks parties and sleeps with your ex and then tells you all about it.

Something that’s bothered me about it (there are many many things that bother me about it and I have a whole other blog for that)  is the way my friends have stopped feeling like they can complain to me about anything.   “Oh god, why am I complaining to you about a flat tire, your problems are so much worse.”

Because I am your friend and a flat tire is a shitty thing, that’s why.

I hate the phrase “first world problems” with a fiery passion.  First world problems are still PROBLEMS.  They are little ways in which our world is a little bit shittier, and we have every right to complain.  Yes, recognize that other people may have it worse, but that doesn’t mean you don’t get to complain about anything ever.

My pain does not invalidate yours.  Your problems do not cancel out mine.

There’s no equilibrium here, shit does not cancel itself out, it just piles on.  So even though I am losing my ability to walk and will someday be a ghost trapped inside a meat shell completely unable to interact with the world around me, it still sucks ASS when your shoelace breaks.  I might trip and fall over a curb and be unable to get myself back up off the ground, but it is STILL SHITTY when your friend gives you the brush-off and you have every right to be sad and angry about it.  And tell me about it, without feeling apologetic.  I don’t necessarily believe I have it any worse than you do.  I don’t think you’re unworthy of complaining about your life just because someone’s life out there sucks harder.  Someone can’t get access to clean drinking water, that sucks, but it is still shitty that you have to walk to the next building over because the drinking fountain in your building is busted.

And that’s what I made this site for.  A safe space to complain about what ails you, no matter how great or small, major or minor.  Stubbed toe?  Let’s hear about it.  Amputated toe?  Okay, shoot.   Complain, use a lot of swear words.  All of the swears. Invent new ones.   This is your place to tell the world how fucked up your day was.   What an asshole that waiter was.  Let’s sympathize about how fucking hard is it, really, to NOT put motherfucking cilantro on the nachos when you specifically asked for NONE?  You had to go OUT of your WAY to put them on there, fucker, and now my nachos taste like soap and you SUCK.

I’m trying to not have many rules, just guidelines, and I’ve hopefully set it up so that you can be as anonymous as you like.

Let’s get this shit started, motherfuckers.