If you could get him to admit to being a jackass, then that would be something

To begin about the new ruse...it was about BJs.

Now this was exactly the sort of lame-ass shit I was afraid of. Told my friends - Vegas, Rock Star, Rock Star 2 - about it. They all agreed its going to keep going on because he is the biggest social moron there is. He has no idea he's being arrogant, or bothersome. Love the low social IQ on that one. This will ensure he is always going to be a problem for some girl, some where. God help her.

But I digress.

I don't answer for 24 hours. Had to discuss it with the posse, as ruses like this have become cocktail fodder for us. (He might be mortified to know how often we chuckle over his lame social skills and his masturbatory activities over Pimms or Stoli.) I decide to answer with a simple email:

I do not use the membership.

If I did need to, I would simply go buy a new membership for $40.

This is exactly the sort of frivolous message I was hoping to avoid. Please respect my wishes and do not contact me in any way.

Immediately he responds:

Trying to be courteous. Not foster communication.

Don't even get me started on courtesy. He can use please and thank you while he's being evil or shitting on people, and he feels he should get points for manners. This gets me going. I write:

Frankly, you're a bit past being courteous, considering your past actions. Consider yourself blocked from all email addresses.


He responds with:

you have a selective memory

you can, and will, do as you please

Well hello ee cummings. What up with the all lowercase and no punctuation. No doubt trying to save time. He used to text me the most bizarre messages, using absolutely no vowels and lots of numbers, and they were almost indecipherable. I think he somehow thought this was cool.

So this week. This week I get a call from Salon Blu about his every 3 weeks appointment. Now, who goes to the salon every three weeks. Who? Who?

Someone who does indeed dye his hair. What a pussy.

So I am tired of getting these calls. I've yelled at the people to stop calling. They don't listen. I send him an email:

Subject: I don't need to know when you cut and dye your hair

Body: Please tell Salon Blu to stop calling here about your appointments.

He writes back, again, almost immediately:

So sorry. I've asked them. Not sure why they are not complying.

Good call on the dye job. How did you know?

Check out dooce.com. You are good enough to do that.

Again, sorry. Have fun in New York.

I don't write back. I want to. I want to respond to everything in there. I want to say the following:

They aren't complying because you didn't change the number, you lazy fuck.

How did I know? You LOOK like you dye your hair. It's obvious.

Hello, my cat's name is mittens Mr. Non Sequitur. I do actually blog, and some of it is way funnier that than boring blog b/c we have such great material to laugh about.

I told Fun Girl that I couldn't believe he so non-chalantly admitted to dying his hair. She said, in that breezy ease of hers, that if I could get him to admit to being a jackass, then that would have been something. But the dye job? Eh. People expect that sort of pansy ass shit out of him.