Ramblings of the Mildly Insane

My sister text messaged me yesterday morning a couple days ago, but I didn’t get it until now because I’m notoriously bad at checking my text messages unless I’m actually holding the phone when I get it.

She’s been messing around with her new cell phone, and after a barrage of “my cell phone is better than your cell phone” types of messages, I got this one…

10/05/06 8:42am

GD MORN MY SIS I LV YU

Awww. That made me smile.

(She still needs to work on her text message shorthand, though.)

Ever have those days when you feel like curling up in a hole and hiding from the world for no particular reason — just ’cause?

That’s how I’ve felt all day today. I was able to get a bunch of work done, but I’ve felt rather anti-social.

Phone ringer’s been off, no television, no music, no messengers, and I’ve only opened Thunderbird a few times instead of leaving it open.

The way things are going, I’ll probably turn off my computer in the next few minutes, take a long hot shower, curl up under the covers and watch ANTM and OTH, then go to bed.

I hope this is only a phase. (The feeling, not the getting lots of work done part.)

So, ask me how my trip to Tire Kingdom went.

After dropping off my keys at the front counter, I head back to the wait room. Two average looking Joe’s, one seated and one standing, were already back there. They both look up and greeted me. I asked how they were doing and the one standing responded with, “I’m great…now.” (That should have been red flag #1.)

When I sat down, the dude standing tried to strike up a conversation. I’ll refer to him as Dude because I honestly don’t remember his name.

Dude: What’d you bring us to eat?
Me: Oh, did you guys want some? (genuinely asking while looking at my Subway’s bag.)
Dude: (chuckling) No. I was just flirting.
Me: Oh. OK. I feel special now, thanks.

(This should have been red flag #2 because I was wearing a do-rag, jeans, old t-shirt, and no make up. In a word, I was looking busted.)

Dude: Yea, I’ve been so sick. Pukin’ and shittin’
Me: That doesn’t sound so good.
Dude: No, it’s not.
Me: Well, are you sick?
Dude: Uh, yes. I’ve been pukin’ and shittin’.
Me: No, I meant do you have an illness?
Dude: Oh, no, I’m just going through a divorce.
Me: That doesn’t sound good.
Dude: I get served on Friday. Maybe then it will be all over.
Me: Well, if you’re just getting served on Friday, that would probably make it the beginning, wouldn’t it?

The other guy piped in and mentioned it was his second divorce, the first was in ‘82…seems they were chit-chattin’ before I got there.

Dude goes to the bathroom and the other guy looked over at me, smiled, said the guy in the bathroom was nuts (I’m thinking, hung over) and offered me his sympathies. That should have been red flag #3. The guy then gets up and leaves and all I could think of was “why are you leaving me alone with him, you seem reasonably normal?”

Dude comes out of the bathroom and the conversation continues despite my having plugged in my laptop and iPod and having the earbuds firmly pressed into my ears.

Dude: I’m so stressed out.
Me: Well, divorce can do that to a person. Meditate.
Dude: Meditate?
Me: Yes, it’s good stress relief.
Dude: I wonder what else is good stress relief.
Me: Exercise. Proper diet. Going out and doing something fun.
Dude: Sex.
Me: Well, I’ve heard that.
Dude: Would you like to help me out with that?
Me: Not really. No.
Dude: (chuckling) I was just kidding, seriously.
Me: OK.

After a brief exchange about what we do for a living (he’s a firefighter — that should have been red flag #4). It seemed rather normal, all things considered, then the conversation took yet another turn.

Dude: Tell me something personal about yourself.
Me: Um, like what?
Dude: Well, if you tell me something personal, I’ll tell you something personal.
Me: Alrighty then.
Dude: I was abused as a child by my coach. That’s really personal.
Me: Yes, that is.
Dude: Well, tell me something personal about you.
Me: I really don’t know what to tell you.
Dude: Do you masturbate?
Me: WHAT?! That’s a little too personal to tell someone I’ve known less than 5 minutes.
Dude: Yea, I know. I’m a bad boy. But do you? There’s nothing wrong with it if you do.
Me: (If looks could kill, he’d be dead and buried twice.) I’d prefer to keep that bit of personal information personal. Thanks.
Dude: So, did you want to go out some time?
Me: No.
Dude: Are you sure?
Me: …Yes. Positive.

In case you missed all that was wrong with the above exchange of words, let’s recap.

Here’s how not to pick up a girl.

1. Tell her you’ve been shittin’ and pukin’ before you even know her name
2. Ask her to have sex with you so you can relieve your stress
3. Tell her you were abused by your coach
4. Ask her if she masturbates
5. Sneak up behind her and touch her neck. (That’s a quick way to loose a finger.)
6. Tell her you’re going through your second divorce
7. Mention your first divorce was in 1982…when she was only 2 years old…it’s a dead give away that you’re old enough to be her father.
8. Contrary to popular belief, not all firemen are sexy, especially not those with a beer belly. Keep that in mind when flaunting your career.
9. Not really a “how not to…” rule, but a tip: sometimes a girl will humor you just to be nice. Learn to read the signs.

I ask…where have all the normal men gone?