The Windy Shitty

As I said, I would wait to continue my series until I got into an altercation with any of the previously listed antagonists. Well, it finally happened. Lucky me!

I wrote a blog about it. Like to read it? Here it go!

The Windbag - "People who talk a lot often talk about themselves. They have never acquired that inner voice that wonders, Am I boring you? To be a Windbag is to have a deep-rooted selfishness. Never interrupt or argue with these types--that only fuels their windbaggery."

I recently had the unfortunate pleasure of encountering a windbag phone-to-phone. There is a fine line between being random and being a self-centered word diarrhea-ist. I just made that term up. I like it. If you don’t then pretend you didn’t read it. Moving. On. I made the mistake of contacting the windbag in question with the intent of having a short conversation. In hindsight, I’m wondering what kind of drugs was I on to ever think such a thing was possible.

That was Strike 1.

During said conversation, I had another lapse in judgment when I thought that interrupting the windbaggery would inspire a cease word-fire on their behalf…Robert Greene has already warned of me of my fate when using this tactic (“Never interrupt or argue with these types--that only fuels their windbaggery." I made my bed, now sleep.

That was Strike 2.

Alas, just when you think I’d learned my lesson, I made another fatal error. I made, what I thought, was a logical suggestion as to why we should end the current phone conversation. (it was already late and she had to wake up early in the morning)

Strike 3. Go to your room!

Never, ever ever ever ever try to end the phone convo with a windbagger for a reason other than an emergency. This is an exercise in futility and will only be met with extreme resistance. Oh, you think just cause the windbag has been sleeping all night and you woke them up that they would rather have a good night’s sleep as preparation for tomorrow’s workday than have you fall victim to their incessant babbling? Au contrair mon fraire!

There is nothing in the universe that tickles the fancy of a windbagger more than to have someone listen to them. Ironically they are not seeking your feeback, only your torture by being their proverbial toilet for word diarrhea.

Want to know if you’re a windbagger? It’s simple. Pay attention next time someone wants to end a convo with you. If you notice that you keep talking while the other person inches towards the exit, or keeps giving you one word answers that suggest “let me the f*ck out of this word prison” then yes you are a windbagger. If you always have one more thing to say before a convo ends, you might be a candidate (P.P.S. lookin’ azz nucca).

Fortunately there is a cure to such a disease as windbagitis. You can talk to yourself, blog (lol), journal, or simply just shut the f*ck up.

You’re welcome.