08/08/05 Pat McCormick is a Douche Bag

I haven’t exactly got the patience of a saint. (There’s not much that’s saintly about me… at all in fact…) I have a lot of Irish blood in me, and sadly the stereotypical temper comes with it. (Don’t get me wrong… I live a happy, peace filled life.) Over the years, I have managed to channel that temper in different ways.

Long gone are the days being ready to “go” when the likes of Pat McCormick (High School Bully and local douche bag…) go up in my face. (Even though he was a stupid, evil fucker, I never did wind up having to fight him, but I always wished that he would get the shit beating of a lifetime. I expect that given his cockish ways, it probably happened… and hopefully more than once. Hopefully more like a baker’s dozen…)

Perhaps being a comic has taught me that there are more than a few ways in which to express displeasure at someone else’s bullshit. I used to be quick to get hot about things, and now I find that stone cold, emotionally rational interaction works with incredible results. Cruel mocking is fun too, but I find that can just egg them on, and rarely can any good come from that.

That is unless someone is being a child. The more childish the behaviour, the harder it becomes for me not to lash out. Currently I have the miss fortune of dealing with an adult who would be better off in diapers. (And given that he is full of shit, I suspect they would be useful sooner or later…) It takes all my patience not to say the wrong thing. (Although truthfully, it would probably do that person some serious good… But it would also make things awkward for me in other areas of my life, and I just don’t need that right now.)

I think it’s pathetically sad when someone becomes so self indulgent in their own sense of self-steeping pity, that it becomes impossible to deal with them. On more than one occasion I have wanted to crawl through the Internet and throttle this person.

Trying to get a straight answer out of this person is like pulling out fingernails. Honestly though, I just want to smack him. I figure one good crack should do the trick. Well It won’t correct the situation, but at least I’d feel better for a little while. The smirk it would give me would be worth it.

Anyway…

Tonight is going to be Awesome. Brett, Nate and I are going to see the Foo Fighters. I’m really excited about it. I have needed a good rocker of a night for sometime. (One of those nights where the amps are cranked to 11…)

The weekend was good. On Friday, Erin and I went to a family function. It was fun; we roasted hotdogs, and flaked out in front of a roaring fire. It was a nice relaxing time. I like her family, they are well connected to one another, and that’s something I’ve missed since I left home. (Not that my family isn’t close, just spread all over the country.)

Saturday, Brett and I went to the football game. Calgary vs. Winnipeg. It was a kick ass way to spend the afternoon. Later we went to Yuks, Brett had a few spots, and I went along for amoral support. We wound up staying late after the show.

We sat there, being plied with booze, laughing and having a good catch up session. Derek Edwards was in town, and it was a pleasure to hang out with him. I haven’t seen him in a while, and I was surprised at how interested he actually was in my progress in the fucked up world of stand up.

Somewhere along the way Freddie pulled out a video camera, and the drunken stupor got recorded for posterity. I wonder what that will look like in ten years from now.

More to come…