Missing Mass

Tonight I watched my first Bruins game of the year. Marchand scored a goal, some other asshole got into a fight, and I really didn’t give a shit who won. Ok, fine, I checked later.  The B’s won 4-2. But still. I don’t know when I’ll see another Boston game. Actually I don’t know when I’ll see another Boston anything. Man, I miss Massachusetts.

But really its not the sports. It’s everything. Minnesota is sorely lacking the comforts of home.  Fuck Dunkin Donuts, did you know that there isn’t a pizza /sub shop every 4 feet like there is in New England? It took me months to find a place that delivers chicken fingers. And when I finally reeled in some place, they were coconut crusted. Coconut! What the fuck is going on here?

Really what I miss though is someone telling me to go fuck myself. I’ve cut off every vehicle in this podunk town and most of them don’t even look up, let alone curse me out. I’ve accidentally closed doors on people, said the absolute wrong things at parties, and inteniontially did my job poorly. No, worse than poorly. Poorest?  I fucking suck. Buy hey, no one gives a shit. Instead people will patiently get out of my way. Or offer me food. Or ask me to help out on additional work projects. Their politeness is making me ill.

Not that I’m THAT much of an asshole (actually…) but I just can’t believe these people. Seriously, no one is this kind. I know there is a certain midwestern code of manners even this far north but why the hell won’t people just come out and say something, ANYTHING mean. Just let it out. HATE HATE HATE you sons of bitches. Sure, I’ll catch passive aggressive moments here and there but no out right abrasiveness. No rudeness. Nothing vulgar allowed either. Just “oh gee, I doughnt know if yah  wanta do that?” WHY? Tell why the fuck not. Tell me right now! I’m sorry. I love you. Yes, I’ll try your casserole.

I’m also surprised at how little anyone gives a shit that I’m from Massachusetts. If someone told me that they’re from Minnesota depending on how I felt about my home at the time I would ask what the fuck are you doing here or ask questions about how if I should move to MN instead. Or at the very least I could make fun of the Twins for repeatedly bending over for the Yankees or ask how they feel about their precious AP being a child abuser? Nothing? Not even friendly ribbing? What the fuck did we just sit through months of America hating the Patriots (after years of America…hating the patriots) for no one to tell me my team is full of a bunch of gutless cheaters. I’m not at the bar to pick up indistinguisable pale blonde girls Minnesota, I’m here to throw down! Some one fight me already!

God I’m bored.
Would I be bored and miserable in Mass too? Of course. The only real difference is that I would be surrounded by likeminded bored and miserable assholes there. The weather would still suck , the traffic would be infinitely worse, and I would hate almost everyone around me for being in too much of a rush or driving like an asshole or just being a generally cold son of a bitch. Still, after decades of being the coldest of the  cold its tough to adapt. I don’t want to pretend to care what people are blathering on about at work. I can’t fake one iota of patience. And for Christ’s sake, when its time to go, just fucking leave. This “Minnesota Good bye” where people shoot the shit in the parking lot for 20 minutes kills me and my irishgoodbye-loving self a little bit more each day. Please stop trying to be nice to me. Tell me what you really think of New Englanders. And for the love of god will someone tell me to go fuck myself. Because especially after this post, I deserve it.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s