Venting About Arrogance

Sometimes I’m shocked by the level of people’s conceit. “Ewww! Ewww! Ewww! You’re a bitch.” some screech mindlessly at me. And why?! Well…probably because, in truth, they’re egotistical and I upset them some way either on this blog or on Instagram. Net worth, for example, is a dirty thing to talk about for some people… And tonight I’m wondering if a weird person in need of “inspiration” on Instagram saw the reference to my great granduncle on my account and found it so offensive to her vanity as an artist that she had to try to desperately find some flaw with me. Desperately.

Regardless, what do most people do to feel superior again? Well…most often they lie. But other times they draw bizarre and inane conclusions. This woman did the latter…

“Oh my gosh! Like…you’re so totally crazy to think you’ll have a soulmate when you die! Eww! Only anti-vaccination, evil, Devil-worshipping, nut-jobs with low IQ’s believe in that superstitious bunk. And not only that but I bet you think your soulmate is famous. Right?! And like who is he, sweetie? *eye-roll* Cary Grant? Gregory Peck? Newsflash retard: who doesn’t think that!? God, you’re so basic and totally full of yourself. *eye-roll* But just in case your tiny brain is curious I actually have a guess who your soulmate is and bizarrely…it is Cary Grant. You’ve never said anything about him at all but I know you know! And do you know why I know so much? Because even though ghosts clearly don’t exist according to science, I had a dream last night and Cary Grant appeared to me and told me so. He said you were awesome and good at collecting perfume and it really ticked me off because I worry you’re better than me somehow and that’s just simply not allowed. (I don’t even wear much perfume.) …But you know, I was most offended that his ghost didn’t want to automatically screw me in Purgaytory…Purgetory…?…because I’m like…a secretly super-hot Catholic chick and I was wearing my Victoria’s Secret pajamas and I was horny. So strange… I mean, I’m like a funny, sexy version of Mother Theresa. Right?! Like, who wouldn’t prefer me in Purgingtory. And even though you theoretically could be anyone’s soulmate including famous people I’m God in my own imagination and “my reality” is always correct. Peter Kreeft or Nathaniel Swedenberg…Ethan Norwegianborg (whoever they are?) be dammed to hell. I’m smarter! I’m better! I’m more of an adult. And, I’m an intellectual mastermind. So let me explain one last time: soulmates don’t exist. Only sexy Jesus choirs on Sundays and in Heaven, Christmas cookies, boxes of wine and filters that flatter my face exist on that high of a spiritual level. Duh! *Ahem* Now watch me as I mock you brilliantly to my adoring billions of real followers who see my innate genius so much more than Cary Grant apparently can in…Purgatory. Purgatory? Purgatory.”

Yeah, Barbie wanna-be get a clue. Please. And if Cary Grant ever wants to talk to me more than you don’t bother him about it… Okay? Ha! *smile*