On Making Friends

So I've talked about my awkwardness with the younger generations. Lets talk about my awkward with people my age.

There's a reason that I have so many experiences with creeps, geeks, and the deranged. I'm a little bit of all of the above.

Since moving three years ago to a new town and a new job I've made exactly zero friends. The friends I tried to make (all two of them) were either grumpy and old or fired from work. There's a light at the end of this tunnel though. A couple of weeks ago I met a new girl at work. We started talking, she was funny, smart and had a lower lip piercing - my kind of chick, in a totally hetero way (oh who am I kidding, we're all a little bit gay, just like we're all a little bit racist).

Anyway, stepping away from the potentially offensive (told you I was awkward), this girl and I were talking, lets call her Aubry, and I was getting super excited at the prospect of a new friend. At one point I actually blurted out, "ohmigosh! We could totally be besties!"

Yeah, I then had to work on recovery. I went on to say that I'm not as creepy and weird as I seem and I get better with time.

Hopefully she'll take me up on my offer to hang out once she gets moved up here. Although on thinking about it, I probably said something like, "once you move up here let me know where you live so I can sit outside your house and watch you through binoculars" instead of "we should catch a movie sometime."

Oh well, I've still got CG. I've managed to somehow hypnotize him into staying with me. Sometimes I wonder why he's managed to stick around, then I remember he's a little bit creepy, geeky, and deranged too. We're meant for each other in a totally creepy way.

Black Holes and How I Cause Them

I'm getting old. I think I've discussed this here before, as it terrifies me beyond belief. How is it possible to BE OLD at 25? I've managed it somehow. This, however, will not be a post about my fear of oldness (don't judge, it's t0tz a word). This will be a post about how I, as an old person, interact with young people.

I think I'm pretty awesome, pretty much all of the time. I may have a "fat day" or a "lazy slob day" on occasion, but self-esteem is not really a problem. I'm the coolest and most adorable friggin' fatty you'll ever meet and I know it. I'm also pretty sure that my family knows it too. I've got some really amazing young family members. Two younger sisters who are the epitome of awesome and several cousins so fabulous they're beyond description. My sisters and two of my male cousins I have a great relationship with, because I see them all the time.

The problem comes when I'm introduced to any of their friends/ boyfriends/ girlfriends/archenemies. I'm awkward. I make inappropriate comments. That's who I am. For some reason teenagers don't seem to like that. So far I have managed to keep the embarrassment that I inflict upon my younger family members to a minimum. There will come a time though when the epic-ness (don't judge that's also totally a word) of my brand of awkward will cause an embarrassment so large that a black hole will form out of the spontaneous combustion of my family member. This black hole will then suck so hard that it will pull everything in it's range into tiny atoms and particles then condense them into it's center. Creating a ball so dense and heavy that it enhances the gravitational pull of the black hole, thereby expanding it exponentially. Thus ending the world as we know it.

I'm unsure how to frame the blame on this particular event when it happens.

My youngest sister Myme is bringing a friend over to my house for the second Friday in a row. I managed to keep cool through the first visit, but this is just asking for trouble. If I inadvertently cause the end of the world, please excuse me, and blame Myme.

Happy St. Patty's Day!

I've got no real excuse for a week long hiatus. I've been sick for the last 5 or so days, but honestly that gives me more time for long-winded writing, not less.

The main thing is that I don't have much to say. Things are going well, I'm getting more and more excited for up coming trip, and getting all my ducks in a row for the whirlwind that will be the next month and a half.

So Happy St. Patrick's Day and I'll try to think of something more entertaining for my next blog.

Things I've Forgotten

My brain is a funny thing, a scary, funny thing. Sometimes thoughts fly through it so fast that even I have no idea what I'm thinking. I catch the tail end of a thought only to wonder moments later when my brain has slowed, "why would a fuzzy elephant dance the cha cha slide in 7 inch heels made to look like Frank Sinatra's spats from Guys and Dolls?"

I don't know.

I'm not sure where this entry is going.

I'm rarely sure of anything. So lets just get started.

I forget things a lot, to the point where I almost feel the need to talk a doctor about it. Everyone has those days where they get home from work and don't remember 90% of their drive home. But whole chunks of memory tend to fall right out of my head.

I can't remember what I ate for dinner last night, the events of my day tend to get jumbled in my head and I can't remember the correct order for most of the things I've done or said. If someone asks how my day was I'll smile, say just fine and go on. Please don't ask for specifics though, I don't remember them.

I'm terrible with names, I'm terrible with faces, I'm terrible with voices. In fact, the more I like someone, the harder it is for me to picture their face. It took a good two months of actively concentrating on CG's face for me to commit it to any kind of memory and even now, the only reason I know that his eyes are brown is because I've forced myself to pay attention to them a couple of weeks ago.

I just don't see things. I may stare at something for hours and have no idea what I'm looking at.

There are a few things lately that have brought this into harsh reality. I was going through my jewelry tub (yes, a jewelry tub and yes pretty much everything is tangled and tarnished) and found my Han Solo illegally modified blaster pistol necklace and a tiny silver owl pendant necklace. How could I have forgotten about either of these finds!? I mean, the first is a fucking Star Wars necklace and the second, how could I forget that tiny adorable owl? I absolutely love owls. They're my favorite animals, in fact, I used to collect the cotton filled toys at any and all wildlife parks I went to.

I had forgotten my favorite animal. How is that possible, especially with all the Harry Potter hype, Hedwig - hello.

The next was even more frustrating and upsetting, although not as unusual as forgetting about your favorite animal. I lost a ring, lots of people lose jewelry, especially rings, it's easy to do. I, however, almost never lose jewelry, it's one of the few things I can manage to keep hold of in my life. My tendancy is to lose the pieces that are the most important to me. My great-grandmother's ring and pendant set with the birthstones of her 5 children disappeard from my car 6 years ago. The ring this weekend was from CG, totally beautiful and wonderfully large and sparkly, I wear it everywhere and don't give a tiny dead baby rat's ass if it doesn't match what I'm wearing. Sometime during the day it completely disappeared. I don't remember taking it off, I don't remember snagging it on anything, I don't remember seeing it or not seeing it for most of the day. Just gone. Very frustrating.

The last was Sunday night as I was trying to sleep. I finally calm my thoughts around 10 at night only to pop back up wide awake at 10:05 anxiously worrying about the little girl that my parents were babysitting over the weekend. I went back over the day and couldn't remember seeing her after church let out that morning. She was no where in my head. I knew that she had to have been with my parents and that she was perfectly fine. But I could not calm down or stop worrying about her until I could remember. I finally broke down and called my mother at 10:30 at night to ask her where the little girl had been after we got home from church. She was asleep on the couch the entire time. As soon as she said it I remembered and was able to sleep.

It's scary and weird. I'm also very sure that it's a sign that I'm going to lose my mind in my early thirties. Something to look forward to I suppose.

Correlation does not imply causation

It just doesn't, so please stop using it in arguments.

Thanks.

Who ARE You?

I was chatting (and by chatting I mean typing) with some friends a bit ago and the subject of personality tests came up, specifically the Myers-Briggs test. It seemed that most people who have taken the test agree with it. Not just my online besties, but also most of my co-workers.

I guess a few years ago the Company had them all take these tests to expand their minds or some other weird corporate brainwashing thing. Anyway, most of them still remember the tests and what their results wound out being.

It's kinda cool, I ended up being an ISFJ.

If you want to take the test yourself: Humanmetrics.

I suppose that's all for now.

Hope everyone had a great Thanksgiving.

Ch-ch-ch-changes, Turn and Face the Strain

. . . just gonna have to be a different man

ANYway, I was once told by someone that your personality changes constantly, so much so, that every seven years you become a different person. I can't remember who this person was, but I'ma believe them anyway (and you should too).

I'm constantly surprised by the new things I learn about myself. I used to be terrified of rollercoasters, now I quite enjoy them. I used to cherish being alone and completely self-sufficient, now I find it hard to spend more than two evenings in a row alone and enjoy almost any interaction I have with the populace. I used to like Family Guy (although I blame my dislike for it now less on a change in me and more on the sub-par writing on the new seasons). I used to think that I could and would do anything for the right amount of money. I used to live and plan only for the future.

I really have changed a lot in the last few years, so I can't wait to see who I'll be in another seven years.

I could end up being a socialist Asian man, my dad would flip his shit (about the socialist bit, although now that I think about it, I'm sure that my dad would also be at least slightly curious about how I became Asian and male . . .)

French Maids and Why I Need One

1. Because they're awesome.
2. Because I wouldn't have to clean my house any more.
3. Because I like their nifty outfits, especially their frilly hats.
4. They have to have a good sense of humor, who else would wear that get-up and still be smiling 5 hours later.
5. They have nice accents.
6. They might know some french men.
7. Do they do windows? If they do windows I definitely need one.
8. They're sex on toast.
9. I like toast.
10. I also like pie.

Things I Do in my Review Mirror

1. Make pouty faces

2. Pick my teeth

3. Pretend I'm in a music video.

4. Check my pimples.

5. Watch the people in the car behind me.

6. Apply lip gloss

7. Take pictures of myself

8. Fix my hair.

9. Pretend that there are people in my back seat.

10. Talk to the people in my back seat.

Brain Wracking

So I've been trying my hardest to think of ANYTHING to write about because I know me. If I stop for more than a week I just won't start up again. Days will turn into weeks, weeks into months and before long I won't even be able to remember the password for this site.

The trouble is, I can't think of anything to post about. I'm too busy with work to get into any kind of situation, I've got very boring plans every night and the only really exciting thing that happened to me in the last two days was that I got The Sims 3 yesterday.

So, yes. My life and the observations that go with it are too boring to saddle you with.

Maybe I'll think of something tomorrow.