I’m right 98% of the time

I find that correspondances between other people amuse me. I am not saying that this is me trying to be amusing; often I am not when I try to be. This is merely an attempt to stay close and bonded with a very dear friend; and then hopefully somewhere along the way we will evoke some sort of feeling in you, the reader.

Sarcasm will probably be one of the most used phenomenons in this blog between friends. Not best friends; we are much more and completely different from best friends. We do not braid each other’s hair or talk about guys all night long. We play hypothetical ludo and make plans for when we have to bail each other out of jail; the day will come, I’m certain.

So from now on this will not be a blog directed at you as a reader. this will be letters in blog form with all the ramblings we normally keep to our Skype conversations or our Pig Latin sessions; yes we have sessions of Pig Latin.

What I think is the first picture ever taken of you and I together. Feels like lifetimes ago. And we looked even stupider back then.


So here it is Rikke, my surprise to you. Do you love it or hate it?

I’m scared you’ll hate it, but somehow I just know that you’ll love it.

I’ve had another run in with my job coach yesterday. Honestly, someone more boring and stubborn is hard to find. I know I’m stubborn too but I can sort of get away with it because of my sarcastic charm and generally just being right 98% of the time anyway. He is not right all the time and when I tried to correct his correction of me he got really annoyed with me. The conversation was pretty much like this…

me: You know that mistake in my application you pointed out yesterday?
him: Yes, what about it?
me: It isn’t actually a mistake. * rummaging through my very organised folder to find the application*
him: *reading the section again* I still think it is a grammatical error.
me: Well I asked around and looked it up yesterday and the sentence is correct.
him: well I don’t think it is.
me (thinking to myself): Idiot, grammar isn’t really a discussable area.
So we coexisted for another four hours or so without hitting, yelling or generally hurting each other. I thought we had finally come to the agreement that I was right, which as you know will be my conclusion most of the time. Then suddenly, while I was packing up my stuff and getting ready to head home, he turned to me and that conversation went something like this…
him: So you like discussion; don’t you?
me: Yes, I love them actually. I think they broaden our horizons and make us better at understanding each other and develop our opinions. (Very grown up answer; so proud I was of myself at that moment)
him: You also like being right.
me: Yes! Most people do, I think.
He makes a long pause, so I walk to the door and just in the second where my position, halfway through the door, makes it impossible for me to head back in or stop in the midst of my movement he says:

“You should learn that you can’t be right all the time”

I do not remember the last time I was that pissed; I only wanted to say that he should work on his need to have the last word, but then the door closed behind me. Who does he think he is? Well my point is that I still don’t think that he is right; I am. Luckily he is off tomorrow, which I can only be happy about.

Now I am so pissed off from telling you the story that I can’t really think of anything but negative things to say about anything; so I’d better stop for now.


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