I’m A Narcissistic Whore

Today I had the opportunity to view one of my more annoying traits with perfect clarity: I’m a narcissistic whore. And there’s really no way around that. Honestly, I should pray that I never become famous, because it will literally be the end of my life. I’ll do nothing but sit in front of the computer in my underwear, reading all the shit anyone’s written about me.

See, it was brought to my attention that a recent crush of mine has a live journal. And what was the internet created for but to violate the privacy of others? Oh yeah. Porn. Well, I downloaded porn yesterday, so I opted for invading someone else’s intimate reflections instead.

So I actually took the time to register with a site I have no intention of reading, just so I could read posts that might not even be about me. I know. I’m sick. At this point, I might as well just take the rest of the day off from work so I can make out with my reflection in the bathroom mirror.

“Mmmmmm…sslllllllluuuurrrrrrrrppppp…uh…uh….yeah. You like that don’t you, whore? You’re a bad, naughty, wicked, disease-ridden slut. That’s right! Get my dinner before I put my cigarette out on your nipple. Cry! Cry because daddy never loved you. Skank.”

Sorry. I got caught up in that hot, romantic moment there for a second.

Ugh. A crush. This whole “wanting a woman for reasons other than sex” thing is pathetic. WHAT HAVE I BECOME??? I’M EVERYTHING I’VE EVER HATED!!!

It’s put a real crimp in my style, I’m telling you. I’m not bitter all the time…Probably only 85% of my waking hours, now. Sometimes I smile at work. Today I caught myself talking to some one socially…in the morning. I tell you, it’s a royal pain in the ass. I have my image to consider and caring for another human being really does nothing to improve it. Before you know it, people will think I’ve gone soft. Then they’ll want to forge friendships with me. And that means phone calls, social gatherings, weddings, Christmas cards, and introductions to their sisters. Then, after I break up with their sister in the most devastating way possible (maybe through intercourse with their mothers) we’ll have to break off the friendship, divide DVDs and maintain an atmosphere of subdued animosity and hatred. And frankly, I just don’t have the energy for that.

Besides, the real loser in this whole thing is the readers of this blog. What the fuck am I supposed to write about? Imagine if one day I posted this

“Today I got up and thought of her again. When we’re together it’s like thousands of tiny leprechauns are having lesbian sex in my tummy.”

Christ, I’d have to kick my own ass. Yes, in the long run, it’s much better for everyone that I remain my bitter, insane misanthropic exterior. Maybe I should execute a child or a kitten or something.