Hi can you get out of my face? Thanks.

As if it's Tuesday already.
Sorry I've been slacking, folks. My doctor diagnosed me with a severe case of apathy.
But I've got some pills and I'm here for you..now.
Cue the bugles!! Bugles....isn't that a dog? Oh never mind, that's BEAGLES.
Regardless, today I've got a bone to pick. It's something which comes to my attention every so often, usually with the same people. And enough is enough.
You know when you get back to school after a weekend of binge drinking, sleeping around, hitting bongs and being rebellious doing your homework, and you go to your homeroom class, and there's that ONE person just WAITING, waiting to prey on some innocent person. Which happens to be you.
You try to escape..avoid eye contact..pretend you forgot your pencil..but it's too late. They see you. And they're going to pounce.

"Oh, HEY! Omigod. How was your weekend? Mine was so so so crazy. I went to this party Friday night and oh my god. So many things happened. It was just insane....."

A.K.A. ASK ME ABOUT MY WEEKEND ASK ME ASK ME ASK ME!

If you're weak and spineless, you can take the "easy" route and simply ask the inevitable, "What happened?" And then be forced to endure endless ramblings until the bell rings. But this isn't and will never be the path I take, because I like meaningful, preferably two-sided conversations.
Instead, I get the hell out of here before they can keep hinting that I should ask them about their weekend. I highly suggest you do the same, before your ear is literally talked off by said moron. You don't want to end up like Picasso, do you? Or was that Van Gogh..

Well this is why I don't work at an art museum.

These people are what I like to call Obnoxious. There are things us regular people do when we need to vent, such as a) tell someone who actually cares or b) write in a journal. Does it really look like I give a shit about your weekend? If I asked, then yes, I do. If I didn't, spare me.
If you need to blab explicit details, blab to the drunk hobo on the street. Or to the bus driver. But don't be surprised when he accidentally drives off the road because he's distracted by your annoying voice.
I mean, really? There comes a time when you just have to accept that the world doesn't revolve around you, and that there are many things I'd rather do besides listen to your cuhhhhraaaazy weekend. Like watch paint dry. Or scratch my nails down a chalkboard.
Do you get the picture? Stop being a half minded twit and invest in a journal. They're only like fifteen bucks at Chapters.
Or start a blog.
But be aware that it can't compete with mine. (You can try though.)

-j