Jackass- Jackass once decided that his anti-academic tantrum about analyzing literature instead of doing a book report on it was so important he was going to shit himself right in the middle of another student's oral presentation. That student was me. Jackass didn't think college students needed to analyze how an author's word choice created tone, or do any close reading at all, and instead we should just reflect on how a plot summary tickled our fee-fees. (I concluded this based on his own oral presentation a few days later.) Jackass seemed to think we were in a book club instead of academia and thought close reading was for chumps.
I even looked at him and said "If you don't shut up and let me finish, this is SO going in my blog."
Peter "Willbehuge" Retentious (Retentious, P.)- Seemed like he was everywhere I looked while I did my undergrad. He showed up in every class, and sometimes it seemed like he was to my right and to my left. P. Retentious liked to talk about how much money he was going to make once he was let loose on the publishing world with his better-than-Stephen-King zombie story. Once he even said Shakespeare sucked--"especially at poetry." I had to resist putting my desk through his head.
Pete, Rabbit. Usually called R. Pete- A direct descendant of the god of Obnoxiousness, and one of my first lessons in being zen on the internet. When I watch someone have essentially the exact same fight over and over again with everyone with whom they come in contact with, and involving the same basic miscommunication (and in which everyone is always "misunderstanding them"), I know that it's probably not my writing that is at fault.
Once, in a particularly petulant forty-eight hour span, I watched this guy plow through every friend he had, most of his internet acquaintances, and even grouse about the same happening in his meatspace life. That's when I fired up some popcorn, and realized there are just some people who are their own worst problem, and are really truly not mine. Honestly, I've just smiled and glided past so many hotheads since then, I almost owe this guy thanks. Except...you know...he's a complete mother fucking pedant jackass, ass-hat, dillhole, and after his eighth dramatic flounce unfriending and crawl-back, I told him to go ahead and stay gone.
The Professional- Took the time out at a deceased friend's wake to make absolutely sure I knew he had succeeded at writing for a living whereas I was still trying to finish up my CW degree. Boy, I sure felt like the smaller person that day. Yep.
*By which he really meant editing anthologies of other writers, but whatevs.
Breakups are hard enough, but there's always that one person who sidles up to you with the concerned face and then whisks away to report everything you've been saying to your ex.