Today, The GBOAT features Ricky Anderson, who probably loves Snickers bars.
Based upon information we know, we can assume Ricky Anderson lives at Area 51, where he works on computers and raises his son, who already knows all he needs to know about life.
Ricky writes funny stuff here. However, today, he pours his soul out to us with this post.
So show some love, then head over there and give things a good looooooooong read.
Ladies and gentlemen, Ricky Anderson:
My good looks hide it.
My charming wit disguises it.
But under my seductive exterior lies the ugly truth:
I’m a diva.
Let us count the ways:
I must have my phone with me at all times. If I leave home without it I will turn around and go back for it, no matter how inconvenient to my passengers. The phone must be charged. If there is a spare moment and a spare charger, my phone will put it to use. 99% full? Can I borrow your charger for a minute?
I can’t move. I can hardly whisper. I need you to run to the store and get the items on this list as long as my arm. You need to take the day off work and wait on me. Yes, I’m sick. What’s wrong? I have the sniffles – WHY ARE YOU INTERROGATING ME?
The Computer Mouse
It’s mine. I don’t care if it’s yours; if I’m around a computer, it’s my turn to drive the mouse. I don’t want you to show me how to do something; I want to control the mouse and click around aimlessly until I figure it out on my own!
Pizza is my other soul mate (Hi, Honey!). We were made for each other, but more specifically, it was made for me. Pizza is the ultimate Sauce Delivery System (since my wife won’t let me use a straw…when she’s around). Do not fold that pizza slice – we have calzones for that!
I’ve never been in an accident that was my fault. I’ve never had a single ticket. I stop at yellow lights. You may think I’m an extra safe driver, but the secret is I’m afraid of the other drivers on the road. I’m probably in their way. I watch the rear view mirror more than I do my windshield. If you’re coming up behind me, I’ll move over for you. No need to pass! If I change lanes in preparation for an upcoming right hand turn, and then my wife tells me it’s actually on the left, we’ll drive past the destination, turn right, turn right, and turn right again to get back to it. Can’t have those folks behind me thinking I’m an idiot by simply changing lanes again!
I won’t do anything that involves hassle, as defined by yours truly. If my wife packs me an orange or an apple, I don’t eat them unless they’re already sliced. I don’t heat leftovers for lunch, I eat them cold. This applies to everything really, not just leftovers. Yes, even soup.
I don’t like losing board or card games anymore than the next person, but what really sets me off is when you beat me time and time again. Then I either get grumpy and turn into a jerk, or start goofing off so you can’t concentrate and are so annoyed you want to quit too!
Joseph, or whoever’s blog this is, asked me to write a guest post for him (or her) ages ago. I promptly procrastinated. Then I wrote something. Then I deleted it in self-loathing. Then Al (I can’t remember your name, so just fill it in wherever you feel like it) kindly reminded me again. That was a few days ago. I’ll probably send this to (fill appropriate gender here), then start questioning my existence the moment it’s posted. I usually hate everything I’ve ever written once it’s up, unless I don’t.
What are you a bit of a diva about?
20 thoughts on “I’m A Diva – Guest Post By Ricky Anderson”
This was a fantastic list, Ricky Anderson. However, in regards to you being sick: I would say that becoming completely helpless and pathetic is more of a dude trait than a diva trait. I say this because I grew up with the manliest of brothers and a dad who turn into whiny little pansies when they’re sick.
Good stuff, girlfriend.
I’m glad I kept your attention all the way through the post, Bast.
It was hard not to mention football…
I’m the neediest when I’m ill – paper cuts included. I’m high maintenance about fonts. In a way that causes my coworkers to question my priorities. As they should. I would change the font of this comment, if I could.
Most of all, I’m glad I’m not challenging your JLo diva-ness in Words with Friends.
Paper cuts give me the heebie-jeebies. I’d rather get shot than get a paper cut.
People feel more sorry for you when you get shot than when you get a paper cut…for some reason.
Agreed. Girls, especially Moms, turn into Spartan’s when they’re sick. My manly man? Needs a full week off work for a one day fever. Otherwise, yes, you’re a chick!!
My wife turns into Superwoman when she’s sick. It seems you ladies get stronger and more courageous the worse you’re doing.
Weird, but impressive.
I have a motto: Why stand when you can sit. I don’t care how old the lady is next to me. If there is an empty chair, I’m in it. 😉
Are you above acting sick or placing a basketball under your shirt in order to get somebody else to give you their seat?
If not, then hats off to a True Diva!
Driving – I don’t care who you are, I’m driving. Period.
My best friend is like this, Dustin. Except for he gets sick if he doesn’t drive, so at least he’s got a reason.
I must be the exception to the wussy-when-sick man rule because I tend to sit on the couch and eat soup I’ve made myself after killing the chicken for it with my bare hands all while blowing my nose on my cats and drinking whiskey instead of cough syrup. Of course I don’t really have anyone to whine to when I get ill so that could be part of the reason. 🙂
Same here. I’ve cured every sickness I’ve ever come down with.
You can whine to me, Matt. I’m here for you.
D!v@s for life!!!
Strange that you didn’t mention the fact that you wear high heels.
Or my purse poodle.
Some things are secret, Matt. Thanks for selling me out!
I’m glad I’m giving you a run at challenging your divaness in Words With Friends. 😉
I’m a bit of a diva about my blog–I always think more pepole should be reading & commenting upon it. So I pimp my posts pretty hard. But then in utter self-loathing, I let lay fallow over the weekend–and bemoan my low stats. I secretly want to be the male “Tamára Outloud,” but fear folks don’t trust that level of raw reality coming from a dude.
Plus, as hard as I try, I can’t seem to break out of being merely average. *sniffle*
I’ll respond via email, Diva.