What It Means

Okay. I realize I don't often use the term "straightedge" to define myself as I don't believe in labels as well as the usual assumptions people have about you when you say that you're edge. What I mean by this is something I will take from UrbanDictionary. Yes I'm lame like that:

"Most straightedge kids nowadays flaunt the fact that they're straightedge by drawing X's on their hands, wearing clothing that says "Drug Free" or "XXX" or "Poison Free", because for some reason they feel the need to let everyone know they're drug free."

And...

"Straightedge kid: I'VE GOT THE STRAIGHTEDGE! I'm a person just like you, but i've got better things to do than sit around and fuck my head; hang around with the living dead! Snort white shit up my nose, pass out at shows! I don't even think about speed that's just something I don't need! I've got the straightedge!
Kid 2: Um...calm down. I don't need your beliefs shoved down my throat, thanks
Straightedge Kid: I'VE GOT THE STRAIGHTEDGE!
Kid 2: I know. I know.
Straightedge Kid: NEVER WANT TO USE A CRUTCH! I'VE GOT THE STRAIGHTEDGE!
Kid 2: Great. I know.
Straightedge Kid: I'VE GOT THE---
Kid 2: SHUT THE FUCK UP. I GET IT."

Is what I'm trying to avoid.

So when I get offered things, I'll just say, "Oh, I don't drink/smoke/do drugs/etc./whatever." Instead of assigning myself a label.

This usually works. I don't want to be one of those people who defines themselves by what substances they do or don't use. But it gets REALLY quite annoying when people, for some reason or another, refuse to respect this, acknowledge it, etc.

Like last night.

Last night, I went on a date with some dude I didn't really know. We went to dinner, which was fine, then went to a bar for some Smiths/Misfits thing since I dig that kind of music. Anyway. He got Guinness, I got water. This is how that first conversation went...

Him: Here, try this.
Me: No thanks. I don't drink.
Him: Oh. You're just scared.
Me: Um... scared of what?
Him: That you won't survive.
Me: Uh... I've had Guinness before... my parents gave me a can of Guinness for my seventeenth birthday.
Him: Oh.

So that was annoying. Later, he didn't want to go up to the bar since it was crowded, so I offered to go buy him something. I also wanted to get away from having to sit across that table from him since he was really annoying and kinda boring. So he told me that if I went up to the bar, I had to get myself something to drink... AND WATER DIDN'T COUNT!!! Like what the fuck, I drink what I want. Don't tell me what to do.

That's another thing, I REALLY, REALLY, REALLY do not like being told what to do. Like. At all. I'll just quote Rage Against The Machine here and say, "Fuck you, I won't do what you tell me." Suffices.

So I got him a rum and coke and got myself a juice. And every single time he got a new drink, he would attempt to make me drink some of it. Which got VERY old, VERY fast. So this ended with him trying to get me to drink some of his Jägerbomb. And of course I like Jägerbombs, but I don't drink them. So I refused and asked him why he kept trying to make me drink shit. His answer?

"I'm just being polite."

Ummmmmmmm....what? Where did he learn manners? From assholes? Clearly. I told him that not only was he being impolite, he was also being rude, disrespectful, and annoying. I can think of so many comparisons that I could make for the same behaviour in other situations.

And then I told him to leave. Which was kind of hilarious. But really, the bar crowd/atmosphere was fun and I wasn't going to leave because he was lame. Why spoil my fun even further?

So yeah... that's what my edge means to me. Don't fuck with it.

And thus I leave you with Minor Threat.

Fucking Mice... Jesus.

Ever try and talk to one of those people who talks like a mouse? High pitched voice, doesn't talk loud enough... yeah. Mix that with timid and picky and you've got the client I had today. What an annoying little priss. She was asian and therefore obviously had pinstraight black hair... she brought in a picture of some white girl with average/fine hair and said she wanted it cut like that. Like seriously, if you want a hairstyle, stick with your own hair type!! The teacher didn't even know what she was saying when she talked. God.

The picture is the only reason I knew what she wanted at all... and then I asked how much she wanted off since the picture girl's hair was like... 9 inches long maybe, and the girl's hair was way longer. She said she wanted to keep the length, so I was like, alright, that's fine, just add in layers. So I got my teacher to come over and look at this girl's hair, etc. and then the girl decided she wanted me to cut an inch off... which still won't make her hair look like the girl in the picture's!!! Gah.

So anyway, I cut this girl's hair... cut my finger open while texturizing her bangs, because, "THEY'RE STILL TOO BLUNT!!!" even though they were just like the picture's. This girl drove me batty. And then for the blowdry, she was like, I want it straight, but with volume... ASIAN HAIR LIKE THAT DOESN'T FREAKING DO VOLUME!!! Sigh. People.

On a happy note, Stephanie was fiddling around with a comb and got it knotted in her bangs so that was entertaining to watch it get cut out without having to cut her actual hair. And then there was a cute boy on the subway who I talked to.

I Really Hate You.

Ever spend a lot of time in the (online) presence of people you detest? I have. It's really annoying.

Moving on.

Getting guys to buy you drinks is fun. Making it a contest is even more fun.

...I won. =]