I’m from the beeper era. I couldn’t tell if a chick was a psycho back then till she left me four voice mails in a row threatening suicide. The fifth voice mail she apologized laughing and told me she loved me. Smh. You had to actually date a chick. You thought she was cool till she flipped out at the miniature golf course cause you gave a high five to a chick who made a tough shot. Now she’s throwing your golf ball at the clown figure and calling you a “pinche puto”. Smh. Fuckin up my score and shit.
I have homies I played ball with who looked normal. They liked sports and beers like regular dudes. Seemed chill, till their girl didn’t answer their phone immediately and they transformed into half Incredibly jealous Hulk and half Narco traficante. Death threats while we’re playing Fifa…got Real Madrid looking like el America. Terrible. Smh. Then the Spanish apology. “Perdón mija. No quiero ser así…Es por que te quiero mucho. Ya no me pongas así mi amor”
Telling a psycho NOT to give you a hickey is an invitation for them to stab you. You see the problem with psycho chicks is that they’re black belts between the sheets. Kama Sutra Satans. They got that Harlem Nights Sunshine love. So that first stab might be cute. Lil Blood. No stitches. Let it slide cause it didn’t penetrate that deep and she did stuff your exes didn’t want to. Nah fam. Listen to me. RUN! (Hit it one more time before you leave though)
We don’t gotta date you crazy broads any more! We don’t have to drive 110 mph so you can stop arguing by yourself in the car anymore. We don’t have to call law enforcement to break up with your knife yielding Michoacana ass. No more dude showing up to your job wearing Timberlands and a bath robe asking who the fuck is this dude liking all your pics. No more finding voodoo dolls with my name on em behind the bed board. No more tourettes syndrome “REALLY? REALLY? ARE YOU SERIOUS?” screams while we’re minding our business watching the NBA Finals. Hell no. We now have the scanner. The antibiotic. The Fuckin X Ray machine for the Psycho Cell.
Facebook won’t tell you everything you need to know about someone, but it will highlight what you do NOT want to know. And with that said…
10 WAYS TO SPOT A PSYCHO ON FACEBOOK
1. The Marylin Monroe. Monroe is the hoodrat Superhero. The Bruce Wayne and Clark Kent to you Moscato drinking, “Haaaaaaaaay” yelling broads. Monroe died a lonely side chick. She made movies that none of you watched but you know of her sexual exploits. “Oh she was just outgoing”. Word. “Free spirit” is merely another term for hoe. So if she posts any Monroe pics, memes or quotes…just take some penicillin, buy a new tooth brush and stop talking to women who shop at Discovery.
2. Team Walter Mercado. It’s 2014. I trust a fortune cookie as much as I trust a horoscope. You gotta be covered in tramp stamps to say “Oh I can’t date you..you’re a Gemini”. If her/his horoscope automatically posts on Facebook…I automatically assume they had flaming hots and a Coke for breakfast. Which means they are not meant to be loved.
3. The Novelist. They post a loooong ass status everyday. They all say “continue reading…” Do not click on it. It’s a virus.
4. The wise selfie. You know. They post a selfie anywhere from a public restroom to a work desk. It will be accompanied by a wise quote from someone or a music lyric…about something that has NOTHING to do with the subpar picture. Mark Twain did not say a bunch of great shit for you to use it while you show us your bedroom eyes on the Goddamn train with an Instagram filter that hides your blemishes. “Bitches be crazy son” – Abraham Lincoln
5. The mother daughter hoodrat duo. The psycho dynasty. The mom got pregnant young. She’s in her thirties with a teenage daughter. She still think she got it. So they take a tag team Duckface pic. Mom’s friends message daughter. Daughters friends message mom. Both respond. Both crazy. Block both.
6. The Tyler Perry fan. Smh.
7. The Work reporter. I should NOT know so much about your work environment. I barely care about mine! Yet we all know how many people you “almost” punched today. It’s always “almost”. And these people are almost always single. How could anyone not wanna come home to that?
8. Music. This one is tricky. Music is dope and universal. So I will narrow it down. For women? Jenni Rivera. Bachata. There are two people on God’s green earth who it is impossible to break up with: Jenni Rivera fans and Puerto Ricans. TRUST ME. *cleans wounds* And Women who listen to Bachata list “crying” as their favorite activity. Men? Don’t trust the dude who listens to Movimiento Alterado Corridos music but has a regular 9-5. He’ll kill you, your new guy and himself outside of Los Comales. A freshly written Corrido about the event in his pocket will be his goodbye. FIERRRROOOOO!
9. The “answer me” weirdos. The psycho cell is at an advanced stage. So if you don’t answer their call/text they actually go on Facebook to ask why you didn’t answer that call/text. They’ll either tell you direct or a vague status saying “oh you can be on Facebook but can’t answer my text…grrrr”. You Goddamn right. I’ll like your status before I answer your text too. Then you got the “don’t trust them if they never answer their phone but when you’re with them they’re always on their phone” Steve Harvey wisdom nerds. No. You should trust them. Trust that they do not wanna fuck with your controlling ass. Remember…It’s not me…It’s YOU!
10. The Rant Pack. They’re always mad but say they’re “amused”. Key phrases to look for in rant: Trust no one, Fuck Love, men ain’t shit, all men cheat (Btw, if you believe this then don’t leave your man when he cheats on you) weak men can’t handle a strong woman (dogs are meant to be handled), no feelings, haters gonna hate, drama free, judge me but can’t fix your own life….and the go to phrase for all emotionally unstable creatures…I don’t give a Fuck what you think about me!….usually after a long as rant. And then friends with similar mental disorders will promptly comment such favorites as “sooooooooo true”, “amen” and “well said”. Treat such as a Tuberculosis outbreak and clear the area. They’re ALL crazy. This space is reserved for those late on their period but on time for “Open Bar: Women free before 10pm”. I’m out!
Men lie. Women lie. Behavior doesn’t lie.
Btw, don’t text me talking about exceptions and men/women vice versa arguments. I would love to agree with you…but what’s the point of us BOTH being wrong? 🙂
Now stop reading self help books and turn off those Sex and the City reruns. And live a little.