Hey! More Spain stories, this time of rich, thick and delicious retribution.
16 May 2008. 1:01pm.
Even though I get bloody sick and tired of Pervy McPervington, I've had a very successful week smashing some of the fanciful lies he has told me into shining little pieces. Maybe it's cruel of me, but I just enjoy that reddening in his face when I call his bluff.
Now, granted, usually these are little things. Like early last week when he proclaimed that "Bolivia is the only country in the world with more than one capital" (it's got two - Sucre and La Paz). Now, normally I wouldn't even care, but sometimes I can be a rotten jerk. Knowing that he considers himself quite the geography buff (he himself claims to know all the countries and capitals of the world), I made sure he thought he was right by repeating himself three times.
With, I'm sure, a smarmy, smug grin, I asked, "What about South Africa, man?"
He looked at me, dumbfounded. "What about it?"
"Name me the capitals of South Africa," I continued.
His face was priceless as he conjectured, "Isn't it Johannesburg?"
I smiled even deeper. "Sure?"
"Yeah, it's totally Johannesburg."
I opened up Wikipedia to the South Africa page, and turned the screen to face him, declaring, "Not only were you wrong about Bolivia being the only one - South Africa has three capitals - Johannesburg isn't even one of them, turdilingus. Looks like someone better study geography more, woman."
He tried to rationalize that they're not really capitals, but I kept pointing to the Wikipedia page.
But this last week I've caught him in two biggies - not just little things like being certain of wrong things.
For example: I would never call myself a virtuoso guitar player. I'm afraid it would even be a stretch to call me a good guitarist - I prefer the adjective 'adequate' to describe my skills with an axe. But Perv has lauded his own abilities as if he was the next frickin' Eddie Van Halen. I'm not kidding. And while I figured this was hyperbole, I was always curious to see how good he really was.
Cut to Monday. My friend Javier had another friend visiting the dorm, one equipped with a porta-amp and electric guitar. Ah, Providence. She loves me still, and shines her beautiful face down on me from time to time.
After a good deal of coaxing and convincing, the two followed me to my room, where Pervy was perving out on something. I handed him the guitar, and his eyes were the size of dinner plates. I began, "Okay, you said you mastered the guitar solo in 'The Extremist'. I want to hear you play it."
His jaw dropped.
After a few moments of uncomfortable silence (compounded by the presence of Javier and friend), he replied, "Well, I'm rusty; I won't be able to."
I nodded. "Okay. Play something else."
He stammered for a bit, again using the 'rusty' excuse. I pushed and prodded, and he refused; following about three minutes of rich awkwardness, the others left (Pervy having not played a thing) and I smirked.
Ah, rotten victory.
Cut to this morning.
My friend Lena needed to borrow a book from me. Lena is from Germany (and is smoking hot, but that is neither here nor there). Now, Pervy has claimed on numerous occasions to be either 'functional' or 'nearly fluent' in German.
As Lena and I walked to my dorm, I explained my plan to her, and she was more than willing to play along.
I opened the door, and there Pervy was, perving as usual. Lena struck up a conversation with him as I pulled out the book (my brand-new hardcover sexilicious copy of La Celestina - she'd better give this back or she's toast).
She said to him, "Braeden says you know German?" He nodded, and Lena replied, "Blah-blah-blah German is ugly and I have no idea what she said, although when a hot girl is speaking it German is slightly less ugly but only slightly."
Again, Pervy-jaw on the floor. He knows about as much German as I do - which is none. Lena tried to talk to him for like five minutes, and he never said a word. Myth busted!
Yes, I'm a jerk. But at least I'm not self-aggrandizing.
I'm an honest jerk.