I Don't Know Why I'm Single

Tonight I found myself watching My Strange Addiction on TLC.  It featured a single mother of two who loves to chew on and swallow dryer sheets.  Yes, dryer sheets.  I waited an entire hour for her loving, supportive husband or boyfriend to show up, but he never did.  And then I scolded myself for believing that he actually might.

The fuck was I thinking?

Bitch, you eat dryer sheets???  I think the bigger question here is, who in the hell got you pregnant?  Twice?  This means at some point a male figure was close enough to you to knock you up.  Soooo did you tell him about the dryer sheets before or after y'all had sex?  I'm gonna go ahead and assume it was after.  He wrapped up his seven minutes of thrusting and you pulled your box of Downy out from under the bed and went to town.  I would have paid good money to see his face.  Tell me, is it really fair to put a man on child support when he learns he impregnated a chick hooked on dryer sheets?  I'm leaning towards maybe not, but this is what I mean when I talk about making poor decisions with your dick.  Now and for the rest of your life, you're the guy who got the dryer-sheet girl pregnant.  Great job.

Now more than ever am I certain the aliens are getting closer.  Surely their spaceships are interfering with the magnetic field of the earth, because there truly is no other explanation for the random, weird, strange human beings on this planet.

Calling To Be Normal

Today I got a phone call from a guy I met three years or so ago at one of my former jobs.  I knew he didn't have good sense back then, but today really put the icing on the cake.  Now, he didn't try to hit on me or anything like that, but that fool was always selling something.  Always something that felt slightly illegal and highly pyramid-ish.  The conversation today went a little something like this:

Hello, Lucas?  
Hey "Morris," what's going on?  
Oh nothing much, I was just calling to say hello.  I heard you moved out of town.  
This would be true.  
Oh yeah?  That's great!  Me myself, I got out of that old industry I was in.  It just wasn't for me.  

Now let's pause here.  I was excited, thinking, Wow!  He finally realized what he was doing was a pyramid scheme!  Thank goodness he saw the light.  But I spoke too soon.

Oh well that's unfortunate. 

It's okay.  I'm with a new company now and I'm so excited about it.  It deals with health and fitness, are you into those things?

As soon as he asked the question, I knew what was coming.

I want you to check out this website: www.latestpyramidscheme.com and let me know what you think!  I know you're a smart girl who knows lots of smart people. Perhaps you can put me in touch with those people. 

-_-

What really ticked me off about all this was the fact that I thought he was actually calling to be normal. Who, after 3 years of not speaking to someone, calls and tries to sell them something? Random-ass strange fucking rare birds, that's who.

Honey, I'm not checking out the website, and I'm not answering the phone if he calls back, either.  Now I see why people change their phone numbers so often!

Trapper Keepers

I have a coworker who can be described as none other than a Trapper Keeper.  If you are lucky enough to walk away or have the phone ring within the first minute of her story, you'll be okay for about 3 hours.  Until she strikes again.  However, if you make the mistake of letting the conversation run beyond one minute, you'll be trapped for the next 15.

I really wonder what makes a person think you have the free time to listen to 15 minutes of nonsense, twice a day, everyday.  Sometimes more.  That shit adds up over time, and before you know it, we're all behind.  Brevity is truly a lost art.

I try to avoid Trapper Keepers at all costs.  If I spot one in the grocery store, I'll duck off down an aisle and hide behind a display.  When I see them at work, I pretend someone called my name and make a hard left down a row of cubicles.  If, however, I become entangled with one of these people, all I can do is hope and pray some divine presence intercedes and frees me from the web.

It's Just A Memento

I'm starting to think I should stay out of the grocery store.  Nothing but rare birds there.  Today I'm coming down an aisle and a gentleman walks past me.  He pretends to get something off the shelf, then doubles back in my direction.  "Can you teach me how to coupon?" was his opening line.  I conducted my Seven Second Analysis and decided I was engaged.  But, being the polite person that I am, I thought I'd at least answer his question.  "It's very easy.  You buy the paper, clip the coupons you want, and use them."  "Oh I see.  I didn't really want to know, I just used that as an excuse to talk to you.  Are you married?"

His subsequent question let me know that my analysis was correct.  "Not yet, but soon.  And from the looks of it, you're quite taken yourself."  Homeboy had a gigantic wedding band on his ring finger.  This shit had layers of platinum and what appeared to be black diamonds wrapped all the way around it.  This woman wanted to world to know he was taken.

"Oh this?  You didn't even ask me about this.  If you had asked me I would have told you; This is just a memento."  Oh word?  A memento of what motherfucker?  That little event you went to a few years back where you promised some random chick you'd stay faithful?  The one where everybody got real dressed up? A memento of that?  Do you go home to this memento every night, or is that just a memento too?  The fuck outta here.

I had a good laugh at his expense and carried on with my shopping.

Batteries Not Included

I work with a guy who I'm pretty sure is a robot.  When the pending alien invasion takes place, there is no question that he will be one of the first to shed his human body and carry out the orders of his programmers.

I know this seems far-fetched, but hear me out---Dude is a robot.  Or an alien.  I'm not sure which one, but it definitely isn't human.  There are two main reasons I think this:

1.  I've witnessed him hit his chest with his fist periodically throughout the day.  Not a hard hit, but a good solid thump.  When I asked him why he does this, thinking maybe he'd say indigestion, his reply was, "it's good for the muscle."  Really now?  See, that's an answer only a robot would give.  I think he does it to restart his heart.

2.  Talking to him is like talking to a highly sophisticated Android.  His statements are slightly delayed and unnatural, like there is some sort of processing error.  He often repeats himself as robots do, because there is no new input.  When he does this, I figure he's probably in need of a reboot or system update of some sort..  His movements are also quite jerky, not smooth like a normal human's.  Overall, something is just fucking off.

I know yall don't believe me and that's fine.  You just wait!  It's gonna be on the news and you can say you heard it here, first!

Assholes In The Pool

Sooooo the fact that storm clouds are developing right over your head means nothing to you, huh?  You just figure that you're safe out there in all that water, surrounded by all those underground pipes and metal pool chairs?  The fuck outta here.  Or maybe your bird-brained philosophy is to wait it out until the bolts get reeeeeaaaally close, then you'll get out of the pool.  At any rate, my sympathy level will be at -1 by the time the ambulance arrives to cart your dumb asses off to the hospital.

Name That Bird!

Over the years, my friends and I have come across lots of men who've left comical impressions.  Some we've dated, others were just friends, and others were just people we happened to know.  All have a funny story behind them.  Over time, it becomes difficult keeping up with the real names of all these different birds.  We found it much easier to assign nicknames!  Here for your viewing pleasure, are a sample of some of the nicknames, who all represent real people:

Droid
Popeye
Helicopter
Grimace
Scruff McGruff
The Guppy aka Nemo
401K
Fine #1
Fine #2
Preacher
Software Company
Thug Passion
The Roo
Always Strapped
Pho-Tog
Ninja aka Master Splinter
Tank Head
Pearlie
Thirsty McThurston
Siete
Hercules
Mr. 48
The Planarian
Teapot
2 Hoops
'Bae'
Big Sexy
Hot Doctor
White Bird
and last but not least,

Dread Wig.

You Don't Grow Out Of Crazy

I have a friend who is really going through it with a coworker of hers.  The woman is basically a ranting, raving lunatic who is functional enough to hold a steady job and manage day to day life.

My friend is puzzled at this woman's behavior because of her age.  "She's 49 years old for god's sake! When is she ever gonna grow up?"  It was then that I had to clue my friend in on one of life's many lessons and said, "Sweetheart, you don't grow out of crazy."

And you don't.  If anything, you grow into it.  As a people get older, they gain more freedom to be just as crazy as they want to be.  Who's gonna stop you from being crazy in the privacy of your own home?  Exactly.

So, if you find yourself in a situation with a person whom you suspect to be crazy, and it doesn't seem to be improving, please know that it's not going to, and you might as well get out while you can!

Milk Bags

For the life of me, I can't understand why anyone would purposely attach unnecessarily sized breasts to the front of their body.  These things are heavy, they make your back hurt, and they make you look fatter than you actually are.

Celebrities with these F and G installments would like to have us believe that they are happy with their decisions.  With all due respect, Bitch please.  You can't even roll over onto your stomach, how could you possibly be happy?

My mother affectionately refers to these ridiculously sized breasts as "milk bags."  The term is fitting to say the least, and women who do this to themselves on purpose are somewhere in my top 20 list of dumbest people on the planet.

Bad Luck Birds

I have run into a lot of folks in my time who, within the first 15 minutes of knowing them, have told me their entire life stories, that happen to be filled with a series of unfortunate events.  I call these people Bad Luck Birds.  

One time I met a guy who seemed normal enough.  On the first phone call, he informed me that he had been laid off twice in the past year, totaled his car-shattering his left knee in the process, been wrongfully arrested, and lost his best friend in a boating accident.  Oh yeah, and he's partially blind in his left eye with no hope of correction.  And you're 30.

Baby, I don't want to hang out with you.  You've got bad luck.  Imma need for some of that to rub off before I'll even set foot in a car with you.  Damn thing might run off the road.

Now, please don't get me wrong.  I understand that everyone goes through things from time to time, and that it sometimes pours when it rains, but damn.  Can you keep some of that to yourself, please?  What exactly am I supposed to say in response to these things?

This is the kinda stuff I run into, which is why I generally stay my ass at home.

The Cinnamon Challenge

Now these are some damn fools if I've ever seen some.

Pray tell, what in the world would ever possess you to put a whole spoonful of cinnamon in your mouth?  The people who are undergoing this challenge clearly never cook, because anyone who's ever baked knows that cinnamon is very spicy and will make you sneeze like a motherfucker! In fact, too much cinnamon can sometimes ruin a dish.  That in mind, not too many seasoned chefs will fall for this new trend.

Some of these fools almost choked to death trying to complete this challenge.  I'm thinking, didn't you see the other YouTube videos?  Do you see a fairly decent success rate?  If not, what makes you think your trachea and nasal linings are designed so differently than everyone else's?

I wonder who came up with this nonsense.  Whose bright idea was this?  What's next on the list..salt? pepper? Garlic!  Try garlic.  Better yet, onion powder.  That'll wake you up in the morning.

To witness this tom-foolery, click here:   The Best Cinnamon Challenge

                                                           Cinnamon Challenge Epic Fail

Dread Wig

Let's round out the night with one of my friends' favorite stories- Dread Wig.

The following story is true, with only a few details and name changes to protect the innocent and the endangered.  Rare birds are endangered, after all.

One day, my friends and I had gone out for a night of partying.  We were having a great time when we ran into this group of guys, also having a great time.  The ringleader of said group was a short little man who we'll call 'Stumpy.'  Stumpy had to be about 5 feet even.  I was taller than him, and that ain't sayin' much, honey.

Anyway, Stumpy and I hit it off and we became great friends.  We keep in touch still to this day.  One day, Stumpy invited me over for a few beers and some barbecue.  I went over, and we were joking, laughing, and having a great overall time.

At one point, I began to examine Stumpy's dreads.  I said to him, "My goodness, those are the prettiest dreadlocks I've ever seen.  I mean, they're jet black, even, and perfect!  How do you get them that way?"

Stumpy looked down at his feet, chuckled to himself a bit, took a deep breath, and proceeded to slide the dread wig off of his head, baseball cap and all.

Now what the fuck part of the game is this, man.

After I recovered from my overall shock, the interrogation began.  Naturally, the first question was, "Why?"  He told me that his baby's mother had a lot of friends, and that he wanted to be able to go out and enjoy himself in peace.

Bitch, you're 5 feet even.  You think they don't recognize you??  They see you bitch.  And they're laughing at you.

Nevertheless, and like I said, we're still friends to this day.  How could you not be friends with a rare bird such as this?  And for the record, he doesn't wear the wig anymore.  I think once he "came out" to me, he realized how ridiculous it was, and he stopped.  See, checking in works!

We Don't Need You Natural

Some people require mental and/or emotional medication to maintain a normal lifestyle.  Despite what you may think, I actually support this.

I support this for two reasons:  1.  You have recognized and accepted the fact that you're a rare bird, and you need some help.  This is O. K.  If more people would just own up to it, there'd be no need to check in as much.

The second reason I support this is because, Sweetheart, we don't need you natural.  When you're natural, you do stupid shit like steal cars or rob banks.  When you're natural, you start obeying those little voices in your head.  When you're natural, you keep telling me the same stories, over and over again.

I have absolutely no problem with you consuming as much medication as you need to feel normal.  Some rare birds were born this way, so they can't help it.  I am just proud that you are taking the steps you need to get better, and to help make the world a safer, saner place.

Abundance Of The Heart (It's Just Skin)

There is a verse in the Bible that states, "For Out of the Abundance of the Heart, The Mouth Speaketh."

Yeaaaah, yall didn't think I read the Bible, did you?  I do!

Anyway, to me, this passage means that what we allow to come out of our mouths is nothing more than an overflow of what is going on in our hearts and minds.  The mouth acts as a filter.

This should scare the piss out of everyone.  Think about the things people have allowed themselves to say to you.  If this is what they're allowing to come out, what on earth are they not allowing to come out?

A perfect example would be the time that a gentleman and I were discussing sex.  He went into lewd detail about the things that he's into, to which I replied, "That's gross."  Wanna know what his reply was to me?  He told me, "It's just skin."

Hmmm.

It's just skin, huh?  See, now I'm starting to wonder about you.  I'm starting to wonder what happy trail you followed to arrive at that conclusion.  And again, if this is what made the cut and was allowed to pass through that beak of yours, I really do wonder what else is going on inside of your head.  Needless to say, I distanced myself from this character, because you clearly have no limits.

The Checkout

Ever since I've started this blog, it seems that the rare little birdies are coming out of their nests in droves.

Today, I was in Kohl's picking up a few things for my trip to Iceland.  I was a few people behind in line when one of the associates walked up and told me she could take me on a different register.  I knew she was a rare bird immediately by the expression in her eyes.

So we get to the register, and it isn't working for one reason or another, so we moved to different one.  I didn't like the way she moved my stuff, either.  She handled it with no care; just grabbed it up the same way you grab up dirty laundry.  I didn't appreciate that.

Then, we get to the next register, and that one isn't working either!  Now, I'm getting pissed.  I was already pressed for time, and I would have done better just staying in my original line.  Those whores were already out the door, and I coulda been too.

Anyway, I take a breath as this bird leads me to the final register, which is actually working.  She begins to ring me up when she became intrigued by the purse I was buying.  In a Ms. Cleo kind of accent she says to me  "Oooh, we sell dis' here?"  I wanted to say, "No, asshole.  You don't sell this here.  I went and got it from T.J. Maxx and brought it allllll the way over to Kohl's to have it rung up.  Of course you sell it the fuck here.  Whatchu mean?!"  But, much like how I didn't flip out on the seat jacker, I refrained, and didn't flip out on her either.

Then, she became distracted by my hair.  "Oooh, your hair is so pretty.  Who do it fah you?"  "Thank you, I do it myself" I replied.  "Oooh, I have to come to you now den ha ha ha."

Ha ha hell.  I wouldn't do hair for your strange ass if you were paying me $1000 per service.

Finally, her rare ass became enchanted by different people as they were walking by.  You could see them eyes just-a roaming.  She was barely ringing my purchases up.  It was at this point that I had had enough.  "Bitch, if you don't focus the fuck on what you're doing and get me the hell out of this damn store.  I am now 15 minutes behind schedule because of your happy, dumb ass.  Please give me my receipt and let me go!"

I didn't say that to her for real yall.  But I sure was thinking it.

Happy and Dumb

More and more each day, I consider deleting my facebook account.  The following sentence is an unedited, unchanged, verbatim post, written by an acquaintance of mine who is about to be de-friended:

Old habits are hard to brake sumtimes but I’m goin 2 brake this one no matter how hard it maybe

Again, I did not add, take away from, or edit this post in any way.  So I'm reading this, and I look at your profile picture, and you just a-smilin’.  Just happy.  Happy to be damn dumb. 

So, old habits are hard to brake huh?  Maybe you shouldn’t drive them so fast, and they wouldn’t be so hard to brake. 

I’m not even gonna touch on ‘sumtimes.’ It’s almost as bad as when people say they’re about to ‘cum’ over.  Please stop it.

No matter how hard it maybe….  Maybe what Suga?  Maybe you’re dumb as fuck and should have paid a little more attention in English class? 

I promise yall the page is coming down.  I feel like I get dumber every time I read some shit like this.  I just wanna reach through the screen and bam their heads against the keyboard.  The world really does not need any more people like you, as you are probably the result of poor breeding.  

3 in 1

Strange people are everywhere, man.  You must always be on the lookout and ready to deal with them as they come.  On just one short trip to Publix, I encountered 3 different types of birds:

1.  The Psychotically Competitive Bird.  I was on my way to the customer service counter to return some soap.  This lady, also on her way to the counter, proceeds to quicken her step and literally foot-race me to the counter. Bitch, it's the Publix Customer Service Counter.  It is not a tri-athlon.  There is no prize waiting for you on the other side.  Confetti is not going to fall from the ceiling.  This broad then has the nerve to turn around and ask me, "Are you returning something?"  I replied "Yes, but you go ahead Suga."  If you're not sure what 'Suga' really means, see Mumblers.

2.  The Slow-Walking Bird.  Some people walk like they drive- slow as fuck.  And not only are you slow, but you're swerving, so no one can pass you.  Are you really that oblivious?  Are you really that rude?  How do you get anything done in a day?  Now if I were to step on the back of that dirty little flip-flop, you'll be mad.  Move the hell out of the way!

3.  The Stare-Walker.  Two people approaching each other on foot is awkward enough.  If you don't know the person, and even when you do, it's a weird exchange because you don't know where to look.  Most people will look down or look to the side or pretend to play in their phones. Not the Stare-Walker.  They keep their eyes locked on you the whole entire time, until you feel the need to act.  What I usually do is look away until I'm right up on them, look up, and give a good ol' Southern "How ya doin."  What makes them so weird is that they do not reply!!!  WTF is wrong with you?  You're staring at me you effing weirdo! I'm the one trying to make us both more comfortable.  I think from now on when this happens, I'm gonna do my same waiting technique, and right when I get up on them, I'm gonna go 'Boo!'

Poor Breeding

Now, I've proposed the following theory to Monica many times, and I think only recently is she finally starting to believe me.

We have a high population of strange, rare little birds on this earth because of the high frequency of poor breeding amongst humans.  People back in the day used to care about quality.  They used to hand-pick their children's mates, and they would base it off of various characteristics such as wealth & stability, family history, HEIGHT, strength, and numerous other factors.  Some people even went so far as to keep it in the family to ensure quality control.

Nowadays, we breed with just anyone.  We'll allow just any old sperm to fertilize just any old egg, and what do we get when that happens?  That's right kids! Rare damn birds.  You don't see championship, prize-winning dogs mating with mutts, do you?  They won't even cross-breed with other championship dogs unless they're purposely trying to create a new breed.  They are concerned about Pedigree.  When did we stop caring about pedigree?  We need to start concerning ourselves about pedigree again because....

People Who Tell Me Things More Than Once

I must be in a pissy mood today, because all I can think about are people who annoy me.  I would like to introduce you to another type of rare bird, and they are people who tell me things more than once.

Now, I'm not talking in terms of reminders, or you simply forgot that you already told me something.  I'm talking about people, who look me in my eyes with all sincerity and tell me a story that they've already told me before.  This behavior occurs over the phone as well.  I mean, they will literally go from beginning to end, as if it's my first time hearing it.  And they're completely serious.  And they're not good stories, either.  They're crappy stories.

What qualifies these people as rare birds is the fact that that mechanism in your brain that tells most normal people, "Hey! Jackass! You've told them this already!" is either off or malfunctioning.  It also gives me a clue to just how insane and/or self-absorbed you really are.  Ironically, these people are also the ones who tend to talk my ear off and make me wanna kill myself.  It's almost like they have a record stuck on replay in their heads, and they'll hash and rehash the same stories over and over again to anyone crazy enough to listen.  I guess this is what happens when you check in with someone with an unchecked mind.

Mumblers

Lately, I have run into a lot of rare little birds that I like to call Mumblers.  It's one of the strangest things I've ever seen.  They'll start off their statements at about a 10, and by the end of it they're at 0.  It's almost like they're afraid I'm going to hear what they have to say.  But......you started the conversation?!

They'll be like, "Hey, Lucas," and I'll be like, "Yeah, what's up?" And they'll be like, "Did I tell you the other day aboutattdatjkdtststatkhjhksfskddfadskhffsqqwart?"

So, in an effort to be nice, I'll say "Repeat that for me, Suga."  Now, Monica knows that anytime I call someone 'Suga' I'm really calling them an asshole.  ''Repeat that for me, Suga'' is really ''Repeat that for me, you mumbling asshole.''  Why won't you open your mouth and speak?  If you don't feel comfortable saying it out loud, text it to me.  I won't be mad.

So my new strategy in dealing with these rarities is just to nod and smile, and insert a few 'uh huhs' in there for effect.  They don't know that I don't understand what they're saying 97% of the time.