why yes i am retardulously self-absorbed! thanks for noticing!

What an effing weekend! If you're wondering why I'm writing this on a Tuesday, it's because my weekend didn't end until last night. I jet-setted up to Boston on Saturday, where I slept for a total of five hours between then and Monday night. I won't go into a lot of details here, but there was a brief brush with the cops, during which my stealth thinking and sharp forethought nearly got us arrested saved the day, er, night, followed by a never-ending trip to Foxwoods, where I learned that the Lord (who invented dinosaurs) bestowed upon me the lovely gift of the hustle. Let's just say I owned some bitches at the poker table.

However, while I was up in Boston being totally awesome (but really, could I be any other way?), a discontent reader of this blog called me out twice and my friends and family out once. Yowza!

Now, under usual circumstances, I wouldn't mention this, because, you know, I just get tons and tons of comments, so it's just so hard to sort through them all, (Don't worry, it's sarcasm, which you will soon learn is "the lowest form of wit."), but these comments were just so thought-out, detailed and, indeed, ridiculous that I really want to share them with all of you.

The first came in response to my post regarding what I'm now going to call the "Sara Evans Incident" which was inspired by the Express last week. The basic gist was that I found the Express blurb on this new-to-me "star" funny and my newly found comment-nemesis, "jodeegroupie" (I'm going to assume "jodee" is code for "Marissa"), did not:

"Marrissa, Marrissa, Marrissa! There are people of all ages and backgrounds who moved to D.C. (and who ride the subway, the main audience of the Express paper) from all over the country. While sarcasm, often referred to as the lowest form of wit, can be funny, it doesn't necessarily have to involve putting people down. You also may not be familiar with the gay country dance club on Capitol Hill (Penn. Ave., near the Navy Yard Metro stop) called Remington's. Stray out of your Gossip Girl comfort zone and go and visit it sometime with your friends. On any Saturday night, there will be 100 men and women there who will know exactly who Sara Evans is! Variety is the Spice Girl of life!"

Now I'll be honest, besides the probably purposeful misspelling of my totally righteous name, I didn't find this paragraph all that offensive. For one, it takes a lot to offend me, but for two, embedded in this pithy little pun-filled gem is a recommendation -- "the gay country dance club" Remington's. And while I'm sure this is probably just an invitation for jodeegroupie to get me in some sketchy bar and shiv me, I'm quite intrigued. As a fellow friend and shambler of mine noted in a text message, "I've been looking for a reason to buy chaps!" So, jodeegroupie, I challenge you to a boot-scootin' boogie duel -- winner take chaps.

But clearly, I'd take the chaps -- not only am I incredibly talented at poker, a master at the "lowest form of wit," and pretty much the best at anything and everything that exists and has yet to be invented, but I also got an "A" in my junior high school line-dancing unit in gym class. So, if variety is the "Spice Girl" of life, then my "Gossip Girl lifestyle" is the magical unicorn of life. See, as much as I wish I could live the life of Blair Waldorf, unfortunately, I don't picture her sporting chaps and entering into a line-dancing duel. Simply put, like a magical unicorn, that sh*t ain't happening. Oh, and also, I'm not 17, nor am I ridiculously loaded (although with all of my natural-born talents, I'm sure karma will make it rain for me at some point soon).

And speaking of karma, this serves as the perfect segue into jodeegroupie's next priceless few words of wisdom offered to me in response to my post about God and dinosaurs. (Geez, what a perfect segue! It's as if my brain works too well sometimes! It's retardedly retardulous!):

"Messrissa, you like to use the words "retarded" and retardulous a lot. Because of your self-absorbed and negative karma, I foresee you or a friend or relative of yours giving birth to a baby with Down syndrome or autism!"

Oh, jodeegroupie, you sharp son of a bitch! First off, "Messrissa" -- touché, indeed! But yes, I do like to use the words retarded and retardulous a lot! It's sort of my thing. And yes, indeed I am self-absorbed! When you have so many talents, it'd be retarded of me not to be, right?!

Now, as for the "negative karma" you believe me to be exuding, allow me to just point out right quick that writing a blog is the most passive form of communication so far known to man. In fact, for all I know, no one but me is reading this (of course, that's not true, though, since it's scientifically impossible for anyone to resist the insightful blog droppings that are shat out of my keyboards proverbial glutes almost each and every day.), so if there's any karma being spread at all -- good or bad -- from this blog, well, it's not my fault! It's yours! Zoinks! See, you had to take some sort of action to find this slice of Internet pie, either by clicking, Googling or simply having the mystical urge to type in theantidc.blogspot.com in your browser's address bar. Therefore, if you believe this innocuous (but totally best thing ever) little blog is the harbinger of "negative karma," then really, it's your own damn fault for reading it.

Don't get me wrong though, I want you to keep reading (and I'm sure you will because, like I said, who can resist?!). And sure, I invite you to keep commenting, even keep up wishing I'd pop out mentally disabled babies. Hell, I'm slightly flattered you sense any sort of motherly instinct in me at all! But to wish ill-will on my friends and family (many of whom don't even know I write this pure genius of a blog yet) is just kind of rude uncalled for creepy and weird.

And so here is my request to all of my potential detractors and future e-nemeses out there -- bring it. But make sure your complaints are all about me. Remember, I'm retardulously self-absorbed.

xoxo,

Gossip Girl Marrissa Messrissa Marissa

*PHOTO CREDIT of the Goose of Justice goes out to the always hilarious Bike Snob NYC. This picture will never get old. Ever.*