Mr. Asshole might just be Mr. Intentional (reference to Lauryn Hill)

what are the things you don't understand about yourself? the embarrassing bits? here is my example:

100% he said and hung up.
I know this phrase by heart. Still. Although it's about 3 years ago that it caused so much trouble. But still. It sounds so much the same.
I bring Eddy along he said. I use his car right now. He is a producer you met earlier. I never met Eddy but I am sure that one of the many fuckgirls of his did. The one who forgot her earrings on the heater at the end of his bed. Or the one to whom the girls shaving lotion belonged to in his shower. But anyhow, that is so long ago. I don't know Eddy, so why bother, we'll see.

I bet he won't make it said my Ma. He didn't show up whenever he promised you something 100%. NEVER. We actually did bet. I said he would. I was very excited. Gosh. How embarrassing. Mr. Asshole promises to come to my exhibition and I am excited. Thats fucked up. Really. And I even call him several times to explain him where it is, because he cannot call from his cellphone. He is a CEO of a recordlabel and a former Basketball player from the Irish national team. And I have to call him. Back then I also payed the hotel in Heidelberg. Because he didn't have cash. He gave me a cheque over 300 Euros when I was broke and went to France where I actually cheated on him. But I never used that cheque. And it took me another year to make him pay me the half of the hotel costs back and this only because I really did need the moeny. And he only gave the half of the amount as he once had invited me to a White Snake concert which had costed the half of the hotel room costs. I was so pissed by that time that I told him to fucking keep that money although originally it had been an invitation. I' ve never heard of an invitation that you have to pay way after. But it happens if the guy's real name happens to be Mr. Asshole.

Sorry, but I had to recall those facts. It makes everything a bit more absurd. What about the sweet other facts:
I took the weekendticket which is the cheapest way to get around in Germany to get to Munich where Mr. Asshole lived back then. It was a 6 or 7 hours ride in a sticky hot train. Nothing was too difficult for me to visit Mr. Asshole. When I arrived he took me out for a wonderful mexican dinner. When I did a handstand on the way back home he told me never ever to do that again. He found it embarrassing. The next day he hardly took notice of me. He started working without even offering breakfast. I probably should have done that. I am the woman, I mean, sure. In the afternoon he had some radio people coming around for some deals. I was hanging out in his office. He introduced me as J's cousin. DAMN. Fuck you, Mr. Intentional. FUCK YOU. aargh. Thats why you should never ever tell a real American that you are her fucking cousin. I mean, what the fuck, it s not my fault nor my effort that made her a star. Fuck her. I mean, sure I love her and all that but don't degrade me to her cousin. It's even not that J.is my cousin but that I am her cousin. You know. It's THAT fucked up. He promised never to do that again. Never.

Or what about the day he said I could call whenever I'd arrive in Munich? I was hitchhiking through all of Germany to get to your place Mr. Asshole. When I called there was this sweet ladies voice telling me that the person I have called is temporarily not available. Haha. I sat under a gate in the street. 2 AM in the morning. My first thoughts of breaking into your house I soon gave up as exactly in front of your flat there was a pub. I sat there and Ali came by. Ali was a Syrian guy who was genuinly worried by this little girl sitting all alone in the street. I had exactly 2 Euros left. He offered me a tea or so, as he was living around the corner. First I rejected but then I thought, fuck, if Allah sends me a savior I should comply to the plan. I felt that this guy was not a guy of intentions. Of course, we all do have them. But his were not the first cause. He was genuinly hospitable. The good old orient way of being it. He made me arabic peppermint tea in those neat tiny glasses with lots of sugar and we smoked Sheesha (the first time in my life) and watched belly dance dvd's. You never showed up that night. I slept on Ali's couch in his trainingclothes. He couldn't sleep as he was too excited. He woke me up at the exact time that I had asked him for. With a beautiful arabian breakfast. It was magical. He did what you only did once. He accompanied me to the trainstation. As I was playing a song for him at the platform he looked very sad and said: Why do the bad guys always get the good girls? and then he said something very sweet he said: I know you have a boyfriend and all that, but can I stand in the line? If this is over....can you call me? When I told you the whole story you freakd out and I cried. And it felt SO FUCKING GOOD because this guy was from Syria. Arabic. You KNOW. Mr. Asshole is republican. An Afro American Republican. He is the guy I spent nights with discussing these issues. He liked Bush because 'he holds his word'. -

Yes, I am embarrassed.
Now even more, that I was excited that he came.
I won. He made it. He arrived, but when my show was over. The vernissage was over and so was my little concert. As always I had freestyled on the spot. The first time in front of so many people. It was great. Mr. Asshole was late but it was the first time in our history that he made it although having said the evil formula of 100%. He thought that it was a real big commitment and effort what he had done for me and acted as if this made up all the bad of our past. He actually tried to persuade my Mom that he is not a real douchebag. Too funny. My mom was very amused. Haha. Too cute.
Eddy turned out to be a perfect stranger (as I had thought before) but a seemingly very nice dude from New Orleans. And he actually was really a producer. Which I give a fuck about of course. Mr. Asshole kept talking about how he wanted to make Eddy 'check me out'. He mumbled something of a new business idea and whether I already have a record deal and was apalled when he heard I wouldn't be in Berlin next year. NO i am going to be in L.A. Mr. Intentional. He kept talking about how he didn't believe me that my niece plays in a movie with C.F. and that when he met C. he actually said that he knows me. Sure. We are the family of K... So what. OH FUCK YOU MR INTENTIONAL!!!!!!!!!!!
Eddy said, as I was mocking about how it makes me such a better person now that I have met Mr. F as well, that he used to hang out with Clint Eastwood and that it really is not a big deal. Thank you. But Mr. Asshole, although he claims this all to be a joke, talks too much about it. Names. Big names. Drop them. Be a better person. He talked about how we were really good friends and was really offended when I subsequently freestyled a song for him about what I deem to be friendships. He kept saying that he was my big brother (yeah one that tried to fuck me once...but...) and how glad he was to see me. Trying to break through my cool mask which I luckily easily found in order to stand this absurdity of situation he then said: what would you do if I took your beautiful friend to a hotel room and we would sniff some coke (Oh, but no, he doesn't do drugs. yeah, sure.), and then I would call you and tell you that. would you be jealous?
Yeah SURE I WOULD>

I AM embarrassed. more than before.

Asking my mom about her opinion about Mr. Asshole whom she now finally had met in real she said in a very dry way: Well, he has something of those producers who are always looking for good opportunities in the business.

Yes.

You are a Mr. Intentional. And oh, please don't do me any favours, Mr Intentional! Never! Ever!

cuz

piranha has her own teeth