The term Frennemies is pretty self explanitory. They’re friends, that also double as an enemy. Sounds confusing, I agree. A frennemy is someone who you and all your friends shit talk on a fairly regular basis. You make fun of their stupid asshole personality, right down to their blasphemous spelling (me). You think their hair is a nest of fuckery sitting atop a henious sphere of rancid maggot infested meat, they refer to as their head. You most likely like all the bands they’re in to, but you pretend you don’t because you don’t want to be associated with anything that they enjoy in life. And you can only hope, and assume that they feel the exact same way about you. And in most cases, they do. So I think we’ve covered the ENEMY aspect of a frennemy.

 The FRIEND aspect comes in to play on the rare occasion where you cross eachothers paths at a social gathering. This is when you greet eachother with warmth, comment on any recent physical enhancements (ie: “Oh, your new dye job looks stellar”, or “Hey I noticed you finally got rid of that upper lip hair I’m always staring at”. Sometimes you’ll even do the double kiss thing on either cheek, and try not to emote the burning agony of hell fire spreading all over the surface of skin that they have come in direct contact with. You make your small talk, and quickly make your way to your respective quarters with your fren-friends. This is when you and youf fren-friends discuss in detail your recent encounter with the frennemy.

 WTF? How does this make sense? Its actually one of the most bullshit, two faced malicious activities anyone has ever barfed up.  I don’t understand why two people who mutually dislike eachother can just leave it at that. If you think I’m a big fat shit head, and I think you’re a decomposing bag of vulture innards, why can’t we just keeps an arm’s lenth from eachother and shit talk you behind your back? I mean, everybody knows that shit heads and vulture innards don’t get along. Whats with the charade? If I wanted to role play, I’d be a 9 foot tall Minotaur barbarian with a 2 handed flail and a whole  lot of wrath on my side. Not a shit talking pushover pussy footed cunt-rag.

 I am guilty of this in the sense that I cannot be mean to someone who is not mean to me first.  There are plenty of people that I do not particular enjoy, due to personal reasons. Well mainly due to the fact that I am very easily irritated. But if you’re civil with me, you can expect the same from me in return. I will even refrain from verbally assaulting you when you get out of dodge.  However, if you run your mouth about me to my friends and then remain oblivious to the likelihood (that word looks wrong, but google says it’s spelled right..) of them explaining exactly what was said, to me.. you’re crazy as fuck first of all. And if you feel that way about me, first of all I don’t blame you. And secondly, why the fuck is it necessary for you to approach me at a show and chat me up? Do you really think I’m going to spill my deepest and darkest secrets to so you so you can go tell your imaginary friends all about me? Do you expect me to talk shit about my friends, which will then give you the right to… WHATEVER I HATE GIRLS. I’VE LOST MY TRAIN OF THOUGHT.

 Bottom line is, if you don’t like someone and they don’t like you QUIT FUCKING PLAYING GAMES, AND JUST BE A BIG BOY AND AVOID THAT PERSON LIKE A BAD CASE OF THE HERPS. And if you don’t like someone, but they’re nice to you, they’re not a fennemie.  You’re just mean.

 In closing, I really like werewolves. And am wondering if theres any “WereWolf Metal” bands. I’m fairly certain I made that shit up all on my own though. But if there is such a wonderful thing, PLEASE… MAKE YOURSELF KNOWN!

 Watch Blade Runner.

P.S. Paris Hilton coined the phase frennemy. Thats what makes it valid.

I would like to begin with stating that I am well aware of the fact that chivalry is very much a thing of the past with most people. It’s very infrequent that a gentleman actually holds the door for me, and I think I’ve had my chair pulled out from under me, more times that pulled out for me. That shit doesn’t bother me. I can hold the door on my own, and I ‘m perfectly capable of being seated without assistance. I don’t expect to be treated any differently just because I have a gash instead of a shank. BUT… i also dont expect full grown men to literally push me out of their way and steal my seat on the metro.  That happens, not only to me, but to people around me. Where the shit were you raised? In a cave? Deep under the ocean where manners dont exist because everyone communicates in flavoured bubbles? Maybe you’re from a magical planet where you can push a bitch on the metro to steal her seat, and and not have your dick kicked off your stupid body. If that’s where you’re from then I can understand the confusion, but if you were in fact raised on the same planet as the rest of us, PUSHING IS NOT KOSHER MOTHERFUCK!

You are not allowed to wear your backpack on the metro during rush hour. I don’t care how dirty the floor is, thats where your backpack belongs. It does not belong between my tits, or on my shoulder or anywhere else. It belongs on the floor, where its not assaulting anyones personal space.

You are not allowed to lean on me. I’m not your friend, and I don’t expect anything from you, so please don’t expect me to be excited about your body touching mine. I understand its virtually unavoidable at times, and at those times I am forgiving of the physical contact. But when it’s possible for you to move up a good 6 inches, but you won’t cause you need to invade everyones breathing room and READ THE NEWS PAPER, I will be thinking about different ways to kill you. Is it really possible to be entirely oblivious of your surroundings? I don’t know if its because I spent some very important developmental years of my adolescence in mosh pits or if  I’m just becoming increasingly more misanthropic, but if you come near me, I want to push you.

It is NOT acceptable to remain seated when a pregnant woman (or man!), injured person, senior citizen, or Jabberwocky gets on the bus, and doesn’t have a seat available to them. Get the fuck out of your seat, stop pretending you didn’t notice the fucking crypt keeper looking woman that just came back from the dead, and got on the bus. I understand you had a very hard day at the office, or you had too many dicks thrown at you last night and it kind of hurts to stand, but this woman is 174 years old. This may be her last bus ride ever, please make it an enjoyable one.

I also don’t want to listen to your music that you’re playing too loud, I don’t want to smell the rotisserie chicken you’re eating with your bare hands, I don’t want to smell like your shitty perfume, I don’t want your hair to get stuck to my lip gloss, and above all things… I DO NOT EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER EVER UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES WANT TO SMELL ANYTHING THAT WAS ONCE IN YOUR COLON. IF YOU FART ON THE PACKED METRO, YOU SHOULD BE KILLED!!!

Just fucking say please and thank you. If you step on someones foot, say “I’m sorry”, if you slam into someone face first, say “excuse me” and if I start having the metro etiquette conversation with you in public, say “Shut up bitch, don’t start.”

LISTEN TO BATHORY… WATCH JOHN CARPENTER’S THEY LIVE!