By Ronia Blake
THIS IS MY DUTY. Yes, I owe it to everyone to have my own
column. Oh, stick a sock in it. I hear you. “How UNBELIEVABLY
narcissistic!” Maybe so. Fuck you. Bitch about it in
YOUR column. I actually have valid reasons for making such
an inflammatory statement. Pay attention…
#1. I owe myself - I LOVE being inflammatory. Period.
#2. I owe Wendy - This might keep me busy so I’ll stop
sneaking into Wendy’s laptop to insert “editorial
comments” like “Wendy is a pedophile” into
her articles in hopes that no one will catch it before it
goes to print. I SWEAR, you can still call it “artistic
license”, even when it’s taken with someone else’s
#3. I owe YOU! - Look, it’s no secret that there are
two camps. The “I like Ronia just fine” camp,
and the “Ronia really, really needs to die” camp.
Bottom line, every one of you are gonna read every God-damned
word. The supporters will read it to be, well, supportive.
The rest of you will read it just so you can get together
and talk about how lame my column is, issue after issue. “What
a bitch.”. “What a psycho.”. Blah, blah,
blah. Well, grab a pen, ‘cause here’s where it
gets fun. I WANNA HEAR ALL OF IT! Got an axe to grind? Send
me the details. Got something venomous to get off of your
chest? Can’t wait to hear about it. Got some seething
gossip? As long as I can verify that it’s legit (no,
I did NOT say true), and no names are used, fork it over.
Got something objective and wise to impart? Not interested.
Email me at Homewrecker@dontmesswithtexas.com.
1. Get pissed
2. Contact me
3. Hope I found you interesting and/or entertaining enough
to devote my next column to your “problem”.
the narcissist now?
column was not originally intended to be strictly about gossip.
Its intent was to be an abstract commentary of the goings-ons
in the seedy underbelly of the infamous 6th Street/Red River
scene. A community service provided by yours truly to catch
you up on what you missed on nights where alcohol poisoning
forced you to stay at home. I see and hear some funny shit
around here. It must be shared. The thing is, what I HEAR
is often much more colorful than what I actually SAW. Voila!
Gossip. Deal with it, kiddies. Gossip is good. First and foremost,
it lets you know who your friends are. Second, it lets you
know which of your friends has the most elaborate imagination.
But best of all, gossip is a labor-saver. You can spend Friday
night at home getting stoned and watching COPS, and, depending
on the “storyteller” on shift, by Happy Hour on
Sunday, everyone will “swear they heard from a reliable
source” that you were blowing your congressman in the
bathroom at Emo’s while the Riverboat Gamblers were
sound-checking. Ta Da! Your 15 minutes of fame without breaking
a sweat. By adhering to a few simple guidelines, I find gossip
fairly painless when it’s my turn on the chopping block.
If it’s GOOD – I did it.
If it’s BAD – Jaylen did it.
If it involves your boyfriend – No Comment
you go. Until next time, boys and girls, Fuck You.