Missed Web

So I have this story to tell. It’s not my story. Nothing ever interesting happens to me, unless I get a paper cut or Alec sits on my head and cleans my hair. This story is a story about a friend, whom I shall call The Lady.

The Lady is a very, very, very, very attractive woman. She has nice boobs, which I’ve never seen. Okay, not entirely true, but don’t tell her. A friend of hers took pics of her boobs for some artsy fartsy photo class and The Lady wanted me to see them, but like a 12 year old silly boi I got all stupid and covered up my eyes. It’s amazing what you can see in between fingers. Okay, it wasn’t that much. I saw her neck. Nice, er, neck =P

Anyways, as I was saying, she’s an attractive woman. You’d wanna do her. You wouldn’t have a chance in the world, like this broad I’ll call… hrm… what shall I call her? I shall call her Duh.

The Lady met Duh last Thanksgiving. The Lady went to a club with a friend, who was being quite rude (according to The Lady) to these new people they met at said club. The group then made there way to another club, and the friend was still being rude (according to The Lady) and left. Not wanting to be rude herself, as she was nice all night to these new people, she left them a note saying that she had fun, and included her phone number.

Now, when The Lady is nice, that can be a big deal. The Lady isn’t always nice, but only under certain conditions:

1. 1. you annoy her
   2. you annoy her
   3. you are rude to her
   4. you annoy her

As an aside: I tend to be annoying. But despite that, The Lady and I are still friends after all these years, which should at least tell you something about her tolerance for annoyance and rudeness. But, then again, I’m not some schmuck who is trying to cut ahead of her in a line, or who bumped into her in the street without apologizing. I’m mist, the little boi who saw her nekkid neck once =P

So, she was nice to these people, one of whom was Duh. Her letter was to this group of new people, but apparently Duh decided that it was addressed to her, and only her, and goddammit The Lady and Duh were meant to be together because it was obvious that they are soul mates and the heavens and Earth would not be in proper alignment on both a spirtual and metaphysical level if The Lady was not Duh’s girlfriend.

This right here should be your first flag, kind reader. The Lady, who we already know is very attractive and you don’t have a chance with her you pathetic fool, was nice to a stranger. She’s not the type who would lead you on, really. And she was kind enough to say thank you in the form of a letter, and that she had a good time.

I’m bad at math. But I do know this for certain: 1 + 1 does not mean you suddenly have The Lady as a fucking girlfriend. That is, unless your name is Duh. Or are delusional. In this case: both.

Over the last several months I’ve been hearing about Duh. About how Duh left 11 irate and disturbing messages in a row on The Lady’s machine; about how Duh keeps asking out The Lady, who pretty much goes “eew, get away from me you weird old cunt freak.” About how she’s always on The Lady’s dick* trying to talk to her at the clubs and fishing for information about The Lady from the regulars or staff. About how she’s like always there wherever The Lady is. Oh, yes, and the phone calls. Lots of phone calls. More than the previously mentioned 11 in a row. On many occassions The Lady has told Duh not to call her, and quite a number of times she’s hung up on her. The Lady has been rude to her. Now, I know what The Lady is like when she’s rude to you because you annoy her. She would make a grown man’s testicles shrivel to the size of soy nuts. She would make Jesus say “Jesus fucking Christ!” before wilting away into a pile of nothingness. Heck, she was rude to me once because I got on her nerves and I had to go into therapy to recover! Or, as The Lady says about herself: she’s no joke.

So I’ve established this obsessive personality of Duh. Obsessing over someone she doesn’t really know at all. Obsessing over someone that has made Baby Jesus cry, and a slew of men and women walking around with balls the size of soy nuts. I’m sure you can understand, though, why The Lady is behaving this particular way to Duh. I mean, duh… how can you not?!

So let us now flash forward to Saturday. I knew The Lady was going out on Saturday because she told me she was. She also told me that there was a strong possibility of Duh being there, which was annoying, of course, but what the fuck: you gotta party. And maybe get laid. Unless you’re me, who never parties and most certainly never gets laid. I know that The Lady didn’t get laid, because she called me up at 3a. Which, to be honest, wasn’t expected, because I was kinda hoping she’d get laid and then tell me about it six months from now (The Lady isn’t really good at certain aspects when it comes to living vicariously through her =P). Anyway she calls me up, and this is what she said.

“I had the most annoying fucking night tonight.”

Not what I expected from a night out on the town. And, of course, I knew that Duh was on her dick. And boy, was she ever.

Duh was not only following The Lady around the club all night, but she was in her face. She was looking for her, even going so far as hunting her down in the bathroom at one point. The bartender thought that Duh was The Lady’s girlfriend, and other people did as well. Not because Duh was on her dick. But because Duh told people this. Yes, she did. Nerve, right?

It got so bad that The Lady wound up talking to a woman who was totally not her type just to try to escape Duh. On more than one occassion (if I remember it correctly), people asked The Lady if she was okay because this eew crazy old cunt of Duh was on her dick, and obviously The Lady was annoyed. The Lady was rude to her. Baby Jesus cried, soy nuts were a plenty. But still Duh was still there.

As she’s telling me this, The Lady’s other line rings. The Lady wouldn’t answer it, knowing that it would be Duh. After a while, The Lady wanted to see if Duh left a message, and so three-way called into her voice mail. And so I sat there and listened to one of the most fucked up mind boggling messages I have ever heard in my life. And after hearing what Duh said, you, too, will applaud The Lady for her efforts to shake this loon from her tree.

I shall sum up with some choice quotes intersperced with comments from this peanut gallery:

“You and I can no longer see each other.” — hello, then stop following her around, you psychopathic stalking dickhead

“You obviously have something wrong with you…” — kettle, meet black. Dumbass

“… and I wish you the best of luck.” — woo, maybe The Lady’s life will turn around because of the luck you’re sending her way

“I’m going to go down South for a while and get my head straight.” — honey, I don’t think a fucking lobotomy and meds will get your head straight… evah!

“If you ever need anything, feel free to call” — um, didn’t you just say that you didn’t want to see her again, and that you wouldn’t be calling her ever again (not quoted)? So, which is it?

It went on and on for like ten minutes. I swear to God my face hurt so much from laughing. I cried. I have never before heard anything more pathetic, psychotic, or weird before in my life. Later that night I thanked God for making someone more pathetic than me; I mean, after all, I’m bragging about seeing The Lady’s nekkid neck! But, you know what. I’ll tell you something. This woman is so fucked in the head that she thinks the Lady is her girlfriend, and this message was the kind of message you’d leave when you’re dumping your girlfriend. Only there was never a girlfriend in the first place. How fucked up do you have to be to be like that?!

Well, after laughing quite profusely with The Lady, I couldn’t help but start to get worried. You see, it’s one thing when you hear stories about the shit that’s been going down, but it’s another when you have actual evidence to someone’s insanity. But, you know what, The Lady really is no joke. And Duh… well, she pretty much is.

*A NYC expression meaning: she simply will not leave The Lady alone