What do you do when you increasingly can’t stand your good friend’s “partner?”
Well, mock him endlessly and bitch about him to other friends for one.
But seriously, I have a good friend whom I adore who’s with this guy who is (for lack of a better term) an embarrassment. He’s an embarrassment to my friend as well as myself. Every time I have them over for dinner or out somewhere my other friends always say “hey, love your friend but what the fuck is up with this other guy???” (And I don’t have particularly judgemental friends.)
So what exactly is the problem? Well, he’s a pathological liar for one. He has severe emotional problems (I’m not mocking just stating a fact) that cause him to have a constant need to be the center of attention. Unfortunately what he doesn’t get is that he’s not the center of attention in a good way. He’s the center of attention in a “whoa that guy is really fucked in the head” sort of way.
A few examples of his lies:
My comic book drawings were the inspiration for George Lucas’s Star Wars.
Uh huh. Well, Star Wars was made before you were born. You deserve a special Oscar for In-Utero Contribution to film making or something.
My mom was a designer for Gucci.
Well, honey, Gucci was crap in the 70’s and early 80’s. Perhaps she worked in the sweat shop or was even in charge of the sweat shop but she wasn’t no fucking Tom Ford.
I own the first Barbie doll ever made in the original packaging and it’s worth like $25,000!
Well, you’ve been unemployed for a year during which my friend has been supporiting your ass and has put himself into at least $10,000 in debt. Guess what - looked up dear old Barbie today. In 2004, an #1 Barbie in MINT packaging sold for $3,500 on eBay. There’s one on the site today for $5,500. If you truly did own one that was worth even a fraction, you need to sell the bitch to pay your half of the bills!
I used to hang out at Studio 54 with Debbie Harry and Siouxsie from Siouxsie and the Banshees and my mom.
Uh huh. Studio 54 closed in 1984. You were 6 or 7. From everything I’ve either heard or read about this club, it basically created the concept of the velvet rope. Guess what - weren’t no 6 or 7 year olds getting around that rope! (Andy, Bianca, Diane - you’re in. Diaper boy - your sorry ass don’t belong here.)
And here’s the latest:
I take 10 Vicodin a day!
Seriously? Well, then you need to go to rehab. Preferably in another state. Why do you need Vicodin? If you truly are in pain and taking 10 a day, then it’s not helping your pain. Now you’re just an addict. And what doctor would keep you on that much Vic knowing that the state of California not only keeps a database of who’s getting Vic prescriptions but also what doctors are writing them? Dude, they literally track every doctor’s total amount of pain killer perscriptions. I know. I’ve looked it up along with all the other shit you’re lying about. Yes, you can buy Vic on the street for $10 a pill, but again there’s that unemployed thing. If you can afford to spend $100/day on Vic then you need to start paying your half of the bills!
So give me a break. He needs to go.