don’t be a jerk

I was supposed to let those pickled eggs stew for about 2 weeks before digging into them, but I got impatient and started after 6 days. They seem pretty done to me. Consensus is: tasty, strong, and, I shit you not, they somehow make cheap beer taste fantastic. I’m going to try different recipe the next time around, just for shits and giggles. There’s a “Scottish” recipe that uses broccoli to turn your eggs a slight greenish tinge. Very intriguing. This is all a good thing as my body has recently been running low on vinegar and brine.
 
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I’m house-sitting for Mike while he’s in the big apple overseeing the rehearsals for his new play and undoubtably banging cool, leggy, east-ender bohemian types after torrid nights of bar-hopping. When he gets back to LA, he will find, instead, a city of wanna-be starlets and harlots and a small, mysterious jar of pickled eggs in his fridge.
 
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I watched A History of Violence this past weekend with Nancy. History of Violence = Fuck yeah. David Cronenberg kicks ass. Viggo Mortensen and Maria Bello kick ass. Actually everyone kicks ass in this movie. Everyone looks like they’re having such a good time playing the parts they’re playing. I like good movies.
 
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On our way out of the theater, I pull Nancy aside and slow her down and put my finger to my lips (sssshhhh.) She becomes immediately alarmed, as the movie has put her at edge. I point to a fella about twenty feet in front of me who seems to be stealing glances at me. His identity is confirmed when his lady friend calls him “Armando”. This Armando is some dude that I did classical theater with one summer. Nice guy. Not a big fan of his particular style of acting, but other people seemed to like it. But, really, a nice fella. I just had no desire to small talk with him. We successfully avoided him, and went on our way.
 
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That particular Amando situation was really more of a “Dave just doesn’t feel like making small talk - with anyone at the moment” situation. But it still makes me feel bad. What makes me feel even worse, are perfectly nice people - genuinely nice people - that I can’t stand.
 
Now, I’m not talking about people that are perfectly nice except for the annoying fact that they are selfish, or are manipulative, or are pedophiles. Those are not “genuinely nice people”. They are fuckers - those selfish, manipulative people that might or might not want to screw children if the law allowed them to. I’m talking about people that are really nice. Good. Kind. People that have giving natures and big hearts.
 
Now sometimes these truly nice, good people have something about them that you don’t vibe with. Maybe they can’t tell a good joke to save their lives, but they sure keep trying. Maybe their laugh sounds like a stoned hyena. Maybe they’re just tooooo chipper.
 
It makes me feel bad that I get annoyed at these good people. That’s why I avoid them. I dunno what my point is. The people I consider my friends are people I respect. They’re people that I trust and that I vibe with. People that I like. People that I have things in common with. And of these people, my good friends are the ones that don’t annoy me that much.