Dear Agony Bitch
Blogger’s General Warning: The Great Automatic Writing Monkey woke up on the wrong side of BITCH today so if you’re expecting a laugh, Her Monkeyness suggests you take a look in the mirror instead. Oh, Bad monkey, bad, bad monkey!
Dear Distraught Cousin That I Never Liked,
I wonder what it was about me that you could’ve mistaken as a source of sympathy and understanding. Was it the rolling of my eyes? The non-existence of eye contact? The fact that I was trying to watch the entire first season of HBO’s Entourage on my laptop at the same time, laughing, while you were unburdening your deepest darkest troubles upon my ears? The fact that I showed more interest in counting the individual pieces of hair on Vincent Chase’s (played by Adrian Grenier) legs than listening to your post-adolescence tales of misery and devastation caused by a recently broken home, a university filled by the conservative living dead that you won’t leave despite better offers because you don’t want to part with your idiot ambitionless boyfriend whom you waste too much of your brain power thinking about? (And man, Adrian Grenier is one hairy actor. I wonder how many sweaters you could make out of his shavings. That’s not body hair, its wool.) Did you take my irregularly timed “Uh-huhs” as words of wisdom and comfort? What is it about me that made you think I’m some kind of bleeding heart Agony Aunt?
Well, you got the ‘agony’ part right. Sorry, honey, where most people might feel sympathy, I only feel agony listening to other people’s sob stories, sob stories that should be reserved for people who give, in the oh-so-eloquent words of Colin Farrell: a “flying fuck”. Just because I’m awake at two in the morning while you talk of your misfortune, doesn’t mean I care enough to want to listen. Don’t mistake my insomnia for compassion. So we’re cousins but the fact that we dropped off the same family tree doesn’t make a smidgeon of a difference to me, man. I didn’t like you when you were feeling good about your life, why on earth should I like you now that you’re going through a tough time? Besides when was the last time, I spoke to you? Three years ago at my sister’s wedding where you mercilessly poked fun at the way I look (again). Well at least one of us has tits. Remind me to send you a trainer bra when I’m feeling kind. If I’m feeling extra nice, I’ll even throw in a free box of Kleenex for you to stuff it with. Then you can go running to Gepetto and make like a real girl, asshole.
You couldn’t possibly understand; you’ve never been in my situation.
BINGO! You’ve hit the nail right on the head, Einstein. So shut the fuck up and stop trying to make Forrest Gump understand quantum physics.
You’re so lucky. Your life is great. You don’t have any problems. What issues could you possibly have?
Excuse me, Missy, I have several, some of which might be of interest to you: The problem that’s most immediate at this particular moment is… YOU. And then there’s the fact that I’m probably an undiagnosed narcissist with a severely impaired ability to empathize with people that think my life is a stroll through fields of rainbows with fluffy bunnies. You don’t fucking know me so don’t fucking talk like you fucking do. You know my name, what I look like, where I live and whom I related to and that’s about it. Just because I might not have to put up with the same shit you do, doesn’t mean my life is squeaky, sparkling and verifiably shitless. This smile on my face is a fucking fashion accessory, get yourself one today – it’s free and it goes well with everything in your closet! For a full list of my problems, please develop telepathic abilities.
Look, you want my advice because if you don’t then you’re seriously wasting my time with all this heart-to-ear talk. Here’s my advice for you (disclaimer: I NEVER take my own advice, that’s another one of my problems): The sooner we stop thinking that happiness is a result of a set of enjoyable circumstances beyond our control the better off we’ll be. It’s probably a dumb idea to sit around and wait for the Cosmic Order to set everything right for us before we even consider the prospect of being somewhat happy. Have you ever read Samuel Beckett’s Waiting for Godot? It’s about these two idiots that sit around waiting for this Godot to show up and even at the end of the play, Godot doesn’t and they go on waiting. Think of Godot as your fairytale ending. You don’t need to watch The Bold & The Beautiful (or any pathetic daytime soap for that matter) to understand that a “happy ending” is usually just a cheerful intermission and that for as long as you live, things will continually fuck up on your sorry ass. Take comfort in the certainty that as tough as things are now, it will only get tougher. So relax because compared to the bigger shit the Cosmic Order has in store for your future, whatever quandary you find yourself stuck in now, is as easy as picking your own nose. Not that I’m saying you’re not allowed to wallow in self-pity and take your turn stewing in the proverbial Bell Jar every once in a while. Like right now, I feel sorry for myself for having to listen to you. The key here is to keep on bouncing. Bounce, bounce, bounce like an insanely catchy club anthem. Your life is a gift with a no-return policy and a faded, illegible expiry date. So use it while you’re stuck with it, you dumbfuck (and don’t use up mine while you’re at it!) And as tempting as it may sound, no, you can’t re-wrap it and give it to someone else to deal with, not even if it comes wrapped in a big pink bow. Your life is a gift but like batteries, happiness isn’t usually included. It’s a conscious decision, a choice that needs to be made and renewed independently every second, every minute, every hour and every time you feel like the Cosmic Order is shitting on you again. Indeed, the choice for happiness can be made harder or easier depending on the circumstances which you find yourself faced with, but the fact is, it is and always will be a choice you have. The sooner you realize this, the sooner I can drop this ridiculous Dr. Phil / Agony Aunt act and go back to watching Entourage. (Yeah, the fuck, I care if you’ve never heard of the show or that you think it looks boring. Who asked you? It’s funny and I love it.)
On that note, I do hope that your life gets better soon. For purely selfish reasons. Cheers!
The Agony Bitch.
