For all intents and purposes I rarely acknowledge the lines of common decency. If you stop and review a few of the things I have said and done you’ll realize I have no business pointing out when someone’s out of line. In the rare occasion that I do this, you have to realize whatever it is I’m appalled by is probably terribly fucking wrong. Almost everyone realizes that jokes pertaining to 9-11 are just as bad as Holocaust-Denier tattoos and Jon Benet Ramsey jokes. Everyone that is, but my best friend. She’s upper class, fabulous and Middle Eastern. She’s also totally out of her mind. I might joke that I will take a shit on the hood of a Jeep that dicked me out of a parking spot, but she’ll stand in the middle of a crowded store and demand service or she’ll blow shit up. I guess this wouldn’t quite as jarring if she wasn’t Middle Eastern and didn’t look like a really prissy, overdressed terrorist. Imagine Osama Bin Laden dressed in Gucci with a super nice rack. Since I love to shit all over social norms, out-of-the-box thinking does not really irk me (most of the time), but every once and a while I am confronted with something that makes me want to shit all over myself. It just so turns out that pretending to be a terrorist in public is one of these things.
And it’s not because I cringe at the anticipation of people’s reactions and her generally cavalier attitude. Actually, it’s quite the opposite. I live in a certain fear that she will keep doing this until one day we turn the corner to return back to her car when we’re confronted by men in black suits that whisk her away to Guantanamo Bay. And mostly, it’s because they’d probably take her purse and I’d be stranded without a ride.
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