“Are You This Much of an (Insert Slur Here) In Real Life?”

I recently wrote a couple of offensive posts (shocker, right?) that have garnered a few email responses. One thing that I get allot in these emails is;

“Are you this much of a cunt in real life, or are you just hiding behind the internet?”

To be honest, it’s a little bit of both. Much like any other emotion, cuntiness is purely situational.

I don’t believe that anyone is a bitch 100% of the time. When I worked in insurance, I used to have to deal with this zoo owner whenever one of her employees got injured. Let me tell you straight off, she was a fucking bitch. Seriously, she was a nightmare of a human being and I used to dread contacting her. She was the type of person who could take the most innocuous question, and turn it into a personal attack. She couldn’t even make small talk without getting offended.

Me: It sure has been cold out lately.

Her: No it hasn’t. God, everyone in this state is such a pussy. You all bitch about the weather, and you have no idea what cold it really is. Jesus, you people are friggen useless. It’s like the air you breathe is wasted.

There were times I considered driving to this cunt’s house and slashing her tires. She ruined my day on a regular basis for about 6 months straight. Just saying her name to me, nearly five years later, is enough to make my hands clench into fists of rage and make me start grinding my teeth.

One day, I Googled her and I found some surprising information. She was a complete pushover when it came to animals. She even had a moose that she raised since it was a baby, staying up nights, feeding it with a bottle. There was a video of her on the internet singing that damn moose to sleep, I shit you not.

It occurred to me that as much as I thought she was a cunt, that moose probably thought she was the greatest person on the planet. While that thought didn’t stop me from wanting to slash her tires, it did stop me from assuming she was a cunt to everyone.

I admit I can be a bitch. Much like the zookeeper, I have my hot button issues. Just today, as I was driving through my neighborhood, a 12-year-old boy tried to stare me down after taking his sweet-assed time crossing the street.

I immediately pulled over, rolled down my window, and asked the little fucker what his problem was. He ran away and I had to resist the urge to chase him down. Not fucking around people, I came about 2 inches from kicking a 12-year-old’s ass today all because I didn’t like the way he looked at me.

If that isn’t being a cunt, I don’t know what is.

But I’m not always a cunt. In fact, most people who interact with me find me very pleasant, because I’m pretty laid back. I’m polite to service people, I give money to homeless people, and I only flip people off in traffic when it’s absolute necessary (like they just nearly killed me…or they have a Sarah Palin bumper sticker)

But no, I’m not a cunt all the time. I have situational cuntiness.

When someone contacts me in my personal space, like on my blog, and is rude, I am a cunt. When a man treats me like an idiot because I was born without testicles, I am a cunt.

When a child somehow thinks he’s tougher than me and can stare me down, even after I’ve generously decided to not run him over with my car for delaying my beer run, I am a cunt.

But no, rest assured, I am not this much of a cunt in real life. In fact, most times, I’m only a cunt for one childish reason.

Namely, you started it.