Don’t Be That One Guy

My father always used to tell me, “There are three types of people in this world. Those who can count, and those who cannot.” Smart man, he was. But I think there are more types of people than the three I just listed. Maybe there are four types. Either way, the type I want to talk about has yet to be named. I need you to help me find a name for this type of person.

It’s a pretty broad group of people, and includes all different races, sexes and ages. While it includes the woman in the Lexus talking on her cell phone, slowly drifting into my lane, causing me to swerve over and hit the orange barrels to avoid a costly collision (Hey bitch I just saved you a ton on your insurance…), it also includes the redneck who still thinks it’s funny to have a set of large plastic balls hanging from the rear bumper of his truck. Nothing says class like a set of testicles on your pickup.

This group includes the person who tries to sneak 42 items into the “20 Items or Less” lane. It also, however, includes the idiot who made that sign, that should clearly read, “20 Items or Fewer“. The fat dipshits at the public pool who drink and smoke and curse, all while letting their 18-month-old run around the pool unsupervised… Yeah, they fit here too. The guy who sits at a stoplight popping a zit on his shoulder – the shoulder closest to the driver’s side window – then sniffing his fingers before he wipes them on his jeans… Yeah, we got ’em.

The guy with the really long goatee that looks scraggly and shitty like rat hair, but he thinks it’s the coolest thing since Saturday Night Fever. The guy who always snags an extra kolache when you’re only supposed to get two per person… Wait, never mind – scratch that one. I don’t want to be in this group. This group does, however, include the fat white trash woman in line at the grocer who complains about something being a dollar more than what it was advertised on the shelf. And who therefore makes the checker call for a price check. And then turns and looks at the rest of us in line like, “Hey, it’s their fault!” Uh huh. That six pack of Bud tallboys and your carton of Basic cigarettes costs more than your wardrobe, but you’re complaining about an extra dollar on your kid’s life preserver, you fat cobbler.

So you see why I’m having such trouble naming this clique – when it seems to encompass so many different types of people! So clearly we must find a commonality they all share. Besides just the shitty fact that they’re human. I mean, I don’t mind calling them that since I removed myself from humanity long ago. But that’s clearly too broad. Because there are good humans out there. Somewhere.

Oh, and yes, it does include the dipshits on myspace who think they have to have a picture on their profiles with their shirts off, and that it’s okay as long as they label it, “My obligatory topless photo LOL”. You know, I have fabulous abs. I have like a 9-pack. Or maybe a 15-pack or something. I have huge pecs and gorgeous shoulders and arms. But do you see me showing them off just to get more page hits? Ooh, more page hits. Maybe I should consider that after all. Hmm. Okay, so maybe these guys aren’t in this group. We’ll discuss this more later.

For now, let’s take a break. Long weekend ahead. We’re gonna be off Monday, right? Have some Cold Ones, relax, get caught up on some shit around the house. Just please, don’t be one of those people who blasts their music from the shitty speakers on your roof all night. We’ve all heard Free Bird and Sweet Home Alabama thousands of times. Do we really need to hear it again at that volume? Thank you.

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4 Responses

  1. Seems like ASSHOLES ought to just about cover it or were they in the group that couldn’t count?

  2. Peligro Pete says:

    Uh, why would you sniff your fingers after popping a shoulder zit?

  3. Becky Riles says:

    Would that also include people who bring crying babies into the theater?

  4. Space says:

    No, Becky, there is already a group for those type of people. It’s called People Who Need to be Fucking Shot.

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