Whiney The Poo

There are many types of people in the world: The Pessimist, The Optimist, The Realist, The Asshole, etc. Being that I am an incredibly opinionated person with a penchant for quick judgement, I am especially annoyed by: The Guy Who Has No Time For Anything, Ever. I'll call him the TGWHNTFAE or, for short: Whiney the Poo.

Whiney the Poo is quite the entertainer with all his stories of just how busy he is. He even made a joke when we sat down for dinner about how long it took for him to even get this evening free. He loves to talk about his job, and the funny cat posters that adorn his office walls. He'll list off all the emails he answered today and go into details, that are far too gory, regarding the strange looking stain he spotted on his boss' tie. Oh, Whiney the Poo just loves to pontificate on all the important strides he's making toward his career. He's even picked up a new hobby on his new iPhone were he flicks a digital paper ball into a digital garbage can whenever he's waiting for an especially large PDF file to get sent to the "big wigs in London."

Whiney the Poo hates his mother, feels like he never got enough love. He's totally paranoid that his outfit doesn't fit right because Jeremy, at work, got a new power suit that makes Whiney the Poo feel like Poo-Poo. Boo Hoo. Poor Poo.

Whiney insists on paying for dinner after he's finished off his third Tanqueray and Tonic and polished off the last of my bourbon after ordering the 2nd round I didn't want. He's all about being the big guy! However, as soon as Whiney the Poo steps out of the overly decorated, tasteless restaurant somewhere in midtown that we paid way too much to eat in, he'll whip out his fancy phone and, after staring at it for a couple minutes too long, declare that he can't believe the idiots running his office when he's not there.

So, so sorry! He'll say when he realizes that I really meant it when I said I needed to head home. Couldn't he just walk me to the subway that also happens to be in front of his apartment building? It's only 18 block away? And when I insist that, oh, I really super duper have to wake up at 4am after all, he'll lament. Why are the girls in New York so hard to date? Why Why Why? Why can't I get what I want!? I work so hard and all I want is a nice girl I can see! Couldn't you be that nice girl for me? I do everything for everybody all the time and I just want a break! C'mon. Gimme a piece. Gimme a break of that fine, sweet, pus-pers-personality!

To which, I stare, confirming my deep, deep dislike of the work-a-holic, whiney, self conflicted, lost souls who feel they can shove around a couple hours in order to schedule a time to get laid and say: "I have to go. Thanks for dinner. And the stain on your boss' tie sounds like it was butternut squash soup." And I'll turn on my heel and walk away. Fuggetaboutit, Whiney the Poo, you're just full of Shit.