Do Me A Favor.

Actually, you can all do me several favors:
1. Don’t complain to me that you don’t have enough money. Ever.

EVER.

I’m dead serious on this. If you have more than NONE, you’re already doing better than I. You have money problems? Don’t buy anything. Period. Unless you absolutely need it. I’m talking TP and food here. Not Xmas presents for five million people. Most likely they’ll understand. If they don’t, fuck the selfish bastards.
2. Don’t lord anything over me. Even if that’s not your intention, it most likely will offend me, so it’s probably better to keep your fat mouth to yourself on this one. Your shit still stinks like everyone else’s.

Offenders include:

• “Who pays the rent?”–I’ve let you get away with it twice. Try for a third and you’ll be wearing your privates as a hat.
• “I make $__.”–It’s not a contest; you won’t win anything but a mark on my Shit List (yes, I have one). If said proclamation is combined in any way with Favor No.1, you’ve earned the right to be ignored. Indefinitely. And to be kicked in the shins until you cry.

3. If I want your help, I’ll ask for it.–Stop patronizing and babying me and maybe I won’t fly off the handle. Sometimes it’s best to let me struggle on my own for a while; I’ll be better off in the long run.
4. Don’t try to guilt me into doing anything.–Pretty self-explanatory.
5. Don’t be an asshat.–Again, don’t need to add anything.
6. It will behoove you to keep in mind that from now on, I only give two chances.–Not three, fourteen, seven hundred. Two. You get two. After that, you swim on your own. If you’ve already surpassed this mark, too bad, so sad.
My last favor that I’ve been wanting to ask some of you…

Please just die in a fire.

If I’m not my usually happy humorous self, forgive me. There are some things I needed to get off of my chest before I haul off and start stabbing things.

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