Asshole

I'm up after attending the ABBA concert which really was nothing to shout about. I think we're short on going-out venues so we tend to grab anything which promises something good, even though we know it will not be good, but we convince our psyche that it will be good because we're tired of all the old haunts. Or something like that. I sat through ABBA wondering why I was sitting there and wishing it to be over. And I met this man. A splendid man, as assholes go by. He's a sound-man, or so he thinks, who is convinced he is the expert... in everything. I disliked him on the spot. I do not like short men who puff up their chests and walk with a swagger. It spells trouble. And now I kick myself for having accepted his own invitation to dinner with our two good friends. Because that is how it was, he just invited himself. I could have said no, it was just that my good friend looked at me in this pleading manner, pleading at me to not kick up a mess. And since I love my friend... I said nothing. What didn't help is that I knew for a fact, before I ever met him, that he had tried to back stab my Mister, and I would have loved to tell him that, but again, my good friend was pleading and pleading. He told me he had known my Mister way before I was ever born, which was a lie seeing that although this asshole looks like 60, he is really younger than me. He also told me what a pretty face I have, which I hate hate hate. I know I have a pretty face. Telling me I have a pretty face means that the rest of me isn't. But well, he has a pretty nothing. So I just gave him really dirty looks, and said nothing. If looks could kill, this man would have gone down execution style. But of course too pompous about his own asshole self, he does not see beyond his terrible specs. So we arrived for a late dinner, and this pompous ass decides to get on my nerves immediately. He talked, talked, I could not get in a word sideways, lengthwise or height wise. We proceeded to the dinner table, and madonna tal-hniena I had to be sitting at the head of the table as was he. That meant he was in my direct eyesight, it would have been so easy to just shoot him. And again, the topic was....sound, mixers, bla bla bla. Now I can safely say that I know something about sound, Mister has a whole recording studio here. But this was way too much. So I told him to please find another topic because he was irritating me. He didn't, sound man didn't even hear me. My good friend decided he would let me in on the conversation. Bad idea. Or good idea. I finally could tell him what a bore he was, how he thought he knew it all, how rude he was being because he was doing all the talk, how I could not stand him any longer. It felt so good. I thought he would sit back and shut up. He didn't. He just went on. So I said I was leaving the table because he was ruining my evening. That still didn't do it. I could have cared less about my friend's pleading eyes, I'd tried hard enough. So I became vocal and said hey that's it, I am leaving you... with the bill. And of course he heard that. Business-sound-man-ass-hole didn't want to be left with the bill. Finally my prayers were being answered hurray! And in one fell swoop, out came his calculator! He actually goes out with a calculator! I took a good look at his very plain girlfriend who rolled her eyes in despair. And I suddenly understood how people actually bite their boyfriend's tongues and spit them out. The only thing was, how the hell would anybody be sticking their tongue into this asshole's mouth? Assholes have a function, and that is output. Oh dear, the thought is revolting. And I am no prude. It's finally over, I do not have to put up with an asshole anymore. I hope he's where assholes belong, and that finally somebody has flushed his assholic being into silence.