Last Name Ever, First Name Fakest.

JOONS,

I’m making a very big effort to not start off this post bitching about the fact that it’s Monday.  Seriously…

It was the freakin’ weekend and weekends are bomb because it involves no work and all play- unless you do work on the weekends, then I feel for you #madrespect.

My weekends usually consist of a lot of food and good friends.

Good friends are hard to come by – especially ones who know what the real meaning of friendship is.

Saaghi and I say this everyday – but she’s my wife #sorryboys

I’ve had a lot of bad friends. Friends who think it’s okay to call my mom a bitch, just because I do.  Or friends who think it’s okay to tell me what to do rather than to support my decisions and let me make my own mistakes.

And as a result, I’m blunt.

I say what I mean and I mean what I say.

I think “being fake” or being “nice” to someone who doesn’t deserve it is a waste of time. And I have more respect for people who can tell me how they really feel about me versus the people who pretend to like me to my face.

I have a tendency to believe people until proven otherwise — so me and fake [Iranian] girls usually aren’t the best combination.  I believe them, they talk shit, and I end up slapping them with my words. It’s the never-ending cycle or I’m just a lot bitchier than I like to admit (doubtful).

News flash: people aren’t stupid and if you’re bullshitting someone, chances are… they know.

And let’s be honest, many Iranian girls have a tendency to be the sweetest, most loving person to your face – but behind your back, all hell breaks loose.

Our culture produces the epitome of “poz-dadan.” Translation: uhhh fake mother f#ckers.

And why is that?

We’re taught from early on that we need to create an image.  An image that somehow proves we are better, that we are superior to our peers.

The image we create of ourselves somehow leads to our “survival” in the Iranian community. [Read more…]

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