People tell me that I sometimes look unhappy or angry about something. They think that I’m not happy. There seems to be no shortage of people in this world that feel the need to alter my mood and/or my actions
I don’t mind if one of my friends say “Hey Tom what’s wrong?”, or “Hey Tom are you alright?” I understand that they love me, and they want to see me happy. What I do mind is when people, friend or otherwise, simply tell me; “Smile!”, “cheer up!”, “it’s not that bad.”, or “how come you never smile?” That is what really gives me the red ass
This girl started at work a while back. She is a complete ditz that has been trading on her looks all her life. All of the guys at work are all (gaga) for her. I, on the other hand, am not. I do not give a shit what she looks like. I have nothing but contempt for such people. For days every time I would walk by her, she would tell me to smile, and for days I just let it go.
She made the mistake of telling me, in her ditzy sweet voice, to smile one time too many. I felt it was time for this bullshit conversation to come to a conclusion.
Officer Ditz; Hey, why don’t you ever smile?”
Tom Nardone; This morning, as I was getting ready for work, I looked out the window, and watched my son, who was waiting for the school bus, pick up a stray puppy by it’s neck and stare into its’ eyes as he squeezed the life from it. So is it OK with you if I don’t smile today?”
Would you like to know what she said? She said the same thing you would say. NOTHING!! That is the only thing anyone says when told a story like that. This was beautiful. She looked at me and nodded her head almost violently, as if she hoped I was finished talking to her. She did not smile herself for the rest of the day.
I was pleased to see that the message got to her. My son did not really do this, but that doesn’t matter. I solved both of our problems. I don’t have to listen to any more of her bullshit, and she will definitely think twice before ever telling me to alter my facial expressions for the rest of our time together. I will be surprised if I ever have to listen to her speak to me again about anything.
I used to have a job where I went in at 4am. One thing that everyone does who gets up that early in the morning is yawn. I don’t know why we yawn. It is just what we do. It is in no way offensive it is not rude. A yawn is one of the few bodily functions that have absolutely no enemies. Everybody loves a good yawn. That is, everyone except this one particular asshole. Just about every damned, morning this redneck, inbred, hillbilly, son of a bitch, would catch me in the act of one of my early morning yawns. He would always say “It’s too early to start that shit”
What the fuck does that even mean? I knew that I would have to help this man too. I was convinced that it was not ever going to end, and I knew that I was unwilling to stop yawning. I felt it was my duty as a caring coworker to help him to stop this douchebaggery that he was hopelessly a prisoner to. This was my solution.
Officer Hillbilly; It’s too early to start that shit”
Tom Nardone; Hey listen I am sorry about the random yawns every morning. It is obvious that you care about me, and you want to be involved with my bodily functions. I would like to extend you an invitation to join me this afternoon for one that I think you will really enjoy. I really think today is the best day for you to see this one, since I ate at El Sombreros last night and ordered the sampler platter. If you are free after lunch, please meet me in the men’s room I usually prefer stall #4. I think this is something you won’t want to miss.
He wasn’t pleased and he did decline my invitation. He never really spoke much to me after that, which to my mind was a huge win win. I wasn’t quite satisfied though. I would come in early and if I did not feel a yawn coming, then I would fake one. You should have seen the confusion on that dumb son of a bitches face.
I don’t think it is too much to ask that I be allowed to smile when I am happy, or yawn when I am tired. I will not tolerate assholes who wish to fuck with this. Just so we are clear if you tell me to smile, then yes, that alone, makes you an asshole.
You owe these people shit. Don’t waste your time explaining yourself to them. As fun as it might be, you don’t have to give them an elaborate explanation, like I did. There are other ways to help them. Sometimes just a short “Fuck You” is all it takes to get them on the proper path.
My body is my playground. All the toys and their functions are owned and operated by me, and any other person I grant access to. I decide what the rules are and I decide what toys are available to what person. I share them when, and if I feel like it. If you have a problem with this then you can to your playground.
If, while watching Spartacus, or Game of Thrones, there should be a sex scene and I feel the need to pause the show to take care of a sudden need, then I will do so. Only one person votes and that is me. I always win.
When I conclude my bathroom business, and it is time to do the paper work; I and I alone will make the decision to wipe from front to back or from back to front. It is my ass. It is my choice.
If while I am working outside on a hot July Day, and my ass begins to itch, then fell free to turn your head if you don’t want to watch the show, but this itch is going away right now.
I think that is enough examples
It is as if their lives are so empty inside that they must see me smile to fill some void. I am sorry if they have some hidden desire to live vicariously through me. They should go and live an abundant life where all they can seem to do is walk around and smile at every one they see, and when they get that figured out, maybe they will be in a better frame of mind to counsel the rest of the world with our facial expression problems.
These people have a sickness. They have an ailment and I have the cure. It is the only thing that I am aware of that will cures this disease every time it is administered. That is a dose of Tom Nardone. It’s the only thing I carry in my bag.
If I am not smiling, then maybe I am upset. If you are a friend of mine, then I don’t mind you trying to help me or inquire as to what you can do for me. I appreciate that kind of interaction. Sometimes knowing that someone cares is enough. Knowing that you have a friend who is there for you; can make the problem seem like a more fixable circumstance.
No one that gives a shit about you will tell you to be happy. People who do this, are every bit as much an asshole as someone who would fart in a parked car with the windows up.
I am Tom Nardone, and you are welcome.
Jump to comments