How To Deal With An Asshole

It's her blog debut. She has her own blog "Flourish In Progress" (which is funny as fuck, btw) but by the powers of the moon, sun, stars and all that hippity hoppity bullshit, I asked her to write for "Inside the Mind of a Ghetto Genius". She said, "Fuck yeah," my cock got hard and the rest is fucking history. She's got a Facebook Fan Page (Flourish In Progress FB ) in addition to her blog AND she writes for the goddamn Huffington Post. Bad ass bitch? Shit...I thought you knew. 

So it's my mother fucking pleasure to introduce y'all to the newest contributor to the Ghetto Genius fam...Flo-Rich. What better way to make a debut then to write about asshole, right? Enjoy!

PS - On her blog she writes a "Monday Dare" column. Be sure to check out the latest one here: Are You Dating a Mofo?



Until the age of 12, I had the most fucked-up teeth imaginable. My severe overbite meant that even when I squeezed my lips closed, two chiclets of enamel still poked through. My teeth, along with my thick glasses, made me easy bait for every asshole bully in the neighborhood. It didn’t help that I stepped on my glasses just days after getting them and because my parents weren’t high rollers, they repaired the glasses with several pieces of silver electrical tape. I really wish I was making this shit up for entertainment value.

I didn't fight back when the assholes called me names or threw gum in my hair because my mom scared the bejesus out of me by saying that all confrontations get messy and someone usually ends up losing an eye.

Fuck that shit.

A confrontation only becomes messy if blood or other bodily fluids are involved. Or if you choose to exchange heated words near the salad bar at Sizzlers. That could get ugly too.

Everyone knows an asshole.

Maybe you give up your Buffalo Wild Wings habit so you can sock away $17 a week for a down payment on a car because you got tired of taking the bus. You finally roll through the company parking lot with pride in your brand-new Toyota Corolla sporting a power-tilt moonroof and 16-inch alloy wheels after saving for THREE GODDAMN YEARS. Instead of congratulating you, your co-worker, Cleetus, smirks and starts dusting a smudge from his Porsche with the tip of his tie. Asshole.

Maybe you finally decide FUCK BEING FAT and shed 120 lbs by sticking to a low-fat, low-sugar, bland-as-hell meal plan where the only salt you ever get is by sticking your tongue out and tasting your tears as they stream down your face every time you pass a Krispy Kreme. You celebrate the New You by buying a shitload of tube tops and going out with more confidence. Then, your girlfriend, Tammie, suggests that since you’ve gotten the weight thing under control, maybe it’s time to take a good hard look at your nose. Asshole.

It's easy to hate the shit out of an asshole silently, but what's that quote about angry bitterness eating your soul away until you develop cirrhosis of the liver from drinking Boone's Strawberry Hill Wine? Wait, maybe that quote doesn't actually exist. In that case, you heard it here first. You're welcome.

I don't believe physical violence is the best way to deal with an asshole. The quickest way to end up as Inmate 5783 is to use that sharpened G.I. Joe leg (the one you had laying around in your computer bag as a makeshift shiv) to express displeasure with a particular person.

Instead, I have to be creative. If I find out that Cleetus's parents are Southern Baptist ministers, I take out a subscription to Penthouse and send it as a Mother's Day gift in his name. I add eye drops to Tammie's cocktail before a date and look around innocently as she runs to the bathroom every five minutes with the shits.

If I'm being honest, I've never had the balls to carry out any of these plans. The thug-est thing I've done lately is swinging by the Costco sample lady twelve times while making direct eye contact so she knows that I know what I'm doing is awesome. I mean ghetto. No, I mean awesome.

When I come across an asshole, I keep in mind that I'm basically dealing with an animal. And animals smell fear. So I keep it straight up. I confront them by asking, "Do you have a problem with me?" It usually stumps the fucker. I've even tried befriending assholes. This only works when I'm having an especially patient day. Assholes are lonely, sad, pathetic, underdeveloped losers who crave attention. The few times I've reached out and made an effort to get to know these fools, I've gotten some pretty surprising responses.

When all else fails, the greatest revenge is just to keep doing your shit. All assholes are haters, and nothing makes a hater seethe more than to see you happy.  Enjoy that moonroof. Stick your tits out as you wear that tube top. And keep that shit-eating grin plastered on your face.