I always win arguments; well at least the ones that play out completely contained in my head while showering. It’s easy– whether it’s my mom, that asshole who spilled a drink on me a week back, or my ex, they always say the dumbest shit. And, with the power of hindsight, I always have the perfect counter. I don’t even stop soaping my ass while I pick them apart.
It’s funny how infallible reasoning becomes when you’re enveloped in shower steam. As soon as I step under that shower head, I am become logic, destroyer of squabbles. Maybe that’s why I’ve been known to stay in the shower for half an hour at a time. (That’s right mom, I’ve never jerked off in the shower, I was too busy talking shit at you in my head.)
Sometimes though, I take myself on, mono-y-mono. But, that proves to be a bit trickier. He plays a self-sabotaging piece of shit and I play me. Always be wary of the P.O.S.. They always know how to cut deep.
You’ll never find an actual job, you’re going to be stuck making sandwiches for the rest of your life.
Wow! $40K in student debt? Holy shit, you’re never paying that off. Better get used to the idea of running back to Vermont with your tail in between your legs.
And remember that girl who curved you? Yeah the one with the eyes that you could swim in. That’s the one. Shit man– I thought you said everything was cool. How did your dumbass fuck that one up?
Yeah– he’s an asshole. The worst part is: sometimes I’m inclined to agree with him. He knows how to tap into my insecurity, and he sounds good with his shirt off. God, shower fights with the P.O.S. can really take it out of you. When they decide to square up either you leave fatigued from a small victory, or you get your ass beat and get the slump.
You won’t find the slump in any medical textbook but it can take over your whole body if you’re not careful. It starts in your eyes; you’ll always look tired and it’ll be hard to stop looking at your shoes. Then it moves its way down to your shoulders. You won’t be able to walk upright, you slouch forward and hide your chest. When it reaches your gut, hoo boy– you just better hope it doesn’t reach your gut. It’ll sit there, the slump that is, a tight immobilizing knot of fire.
How do you avoid losing and the dreaded slump?
Regular training helps. But how do you train against yourself? You know all of your own moves. Easy– don’t fight that motherfucker, just ignore him and go about your shower. There’s (usually) only room for one in there, so unless that P.O.S. is offering head, kick their ass out. They’ll still talk shit from outside the curtain, but you don’t have to listen– just sing your favorite Katy Perry song.
Eventually the P.O.S. will tire out and you can get back to meticulously planning your opening statements in the case against your roommates for putting excessive tissues in the toilet. (SERIOUSLY GUYS, JUST THROW THEM AWAY.)