Thanks for nut'in

Thank you, brown window spiders, for coming to my property, and making me afraid of death inducing bites on my butt every time I sit on my patio furniture. I love extremely toxic arachnid bites.

Thank you, dirty diarrhea diaper for exploding at a Japanese steakhouse restaurant, all over the car seat, my daughters last clean set of clothes and finally, my shirt.  That experience just makes me want to go out to dinner EVERY night.

Thank you city property tax employee, for making our conversation as pleasant as a colonoscopy with massive hemorrhoids.  You're demeanor was as warm as I imagine an icicle impaling my heart would feel.

Thank you, new postal employee who's filling in temporarily for the vacationing one, for returning my water bill back to the sender as undeliverable "not a legitimate address" because you can't recognize a new house on an old lot and deliver my mail... Ever.  I like teetering on the edge of knowing if my water will shut off... that's so exciting!

Thank you, migraines, for crippling me and reducing me to my knees every time a ray of sunshine breaks through the window or a sound enters my ears. Being coherent and able, and not bed ridden to a dark soundless cave is SO overrated.

Thank you, toddler, for not only slapping me, ripping hair by the root from my temples and kicking my face, but also for throwing a meltdown fit for a solid hour whilst screaming at decibels that would break glass directly in my ear - all the while I contemplate knocking myself out to end the pain of this experience. Childhood is so magical and beautiful.

Thank you, Diego, for being one of several preschool aged shows that literally screams at me to pet a frigging turtle (rendering it impossible to nap) while I am trying to distract my toddler for just an extra twenty minutes so that I may sleep for once in this god forsaken role of constant sleep deprivation.  I love your program, oh, and also want to see you choke on an Ostrich egg as soon as possible.

Thank you, toothless, creepy, gas station man, for smiling at me in a way that made me want to hide every pair of underwear and shoes I own for fear that you may follow me home and sniff or steal all of them.  Thats my favorite emotion, really.

Thank you, stalker, for making me change my number, remove myself from all social media, move from my home and hide behind a fake name for my protection.  I just adore living in fear of being discovered by a psychopath.  

Thank you, crossing guard, for not having any resemblance of a filter, and insulting everyone who walks past you on their way to dropping off their kids at school.  We definitely don't have enough judgement and frustration from our children in response to just GOING to school, your added commentary just makes the morning all the more FANTASTICALLY awful.

The Pore Goblin

When you have created a red pocked complexion from your ill attempted facial, and you are not willing to take responsibility for your own facial scraping actions, you can always blame things on the Pore Goblin.  He comes around right before you fall into REM sleep...

  

Once you have reached earth shattering snore level, he's ready to advance upon your otherwise still body.  Watching evilly as you snore, he slowly crawls toward your face.  He's watching us right now, he knows we are talking about him.  His troglodyte alien sixth sense works exceptionally well, especially being that he is the runt of the Pore Goblin family.

*SHWING* His razor sharp claws are no match for your mace.  In one fell swoop he could literally rip your face apart.  Seriously.

Claws descend upon innocent skin, and before you know it, you are about to fall prey to his facial scraping actions.  His movements are precise and so light, that you don't even know what's going on, and seldom wake up in the middle of his midnight attack.

The next morning you head to the bathroom to wash your face, and lo and behold... half of it is gone.  What has replaced your once even toned, tight pored face, is now a splattering of bleeding red scrapes and pock marks.  Calling in sick might be a good option to avoid co-workers, but then what will be your excuse to the Pizza delivery man?  Dilemma's Dilemma's... Surely you don't want to be seen in public looking like a rejected cast member from Hellraiser 2.  Think of the children, and your elderly neighbor... her 90 year old ticker couldn't handle that visual. 

Note to reader: buy stock in concealer, if you don't you're left with only baby powder and nude lip liner to cover the ghastly marks.  NOT cool.

This story is based on true events. 

Footnote: If you're not worried about spiders crawling into your head from sleeping with your mouth open, or those earwigs from Dune laying babies in your ear, then there is no need to worry about the Pore Goblin.  You apparently know something we don't. 

Misfits

Monster eating a helpless teddy bear.  He's looking at you saying you're next.

As I was chatting with a friend over coffee this morning, something occurred to me.  The world needs more misfits like us.  We both were equally describing ourselves as people who feel its tremendously taxing to keep up with the social demands of normal people and their conversations.  It's exhausting trying to pretend that I know the right thing to say and when to say it, how to be poised when I just want to blurt out something, or how to speak and listen effectively.  Quite honestly, I usually operate on a consistent level of being "out there", "different", darkly sarcastic and offering too much information (leaving people in a stun gun type of stance while I am dumping my verbal diarrhea).  Trying to be normal at a social gathering is like trying to tread water for 2 hours.  It's depleting for me.  As you can imagine, other people don't generally gel with my type of personality without significant effort on their part.  I'm more likely to strike up a relationship with your nanny and coordinate play dates with them than strike up a friendship with you.  Not because I don't like friends... but I can be really difficult to "get".  More than I would like, I am met with the jerking head back, blinking eyes, astonished look when I speak.  Needless to say, I don't get out much anymore and my social interactions are usually at my house or the random conversation with the grocery store cashier (by choice).  By using the word "conversation", I actually mean just answering them as to whether or not I want cash back from my transaction.  The way I see it, the more I interact with people the higher the probability that I will embarrass myself, my kid, or just insult someone without realizing it (see Foot in Mouth Disease post).  I am just too damn old now to be stressing about what I said to whom, and about what, and how it came across... becoming agoraphobic seems like such a better option.  I'm already a hermit.  It goes right along with the territory.

Where was I going with this?  Oh yeah, what I was saying before is that the world needs more hermits, weirdos (in the non-harmful sense), misfits, unique people and overall difference.  I love meeting people that fit this description, especially since I include myself within that category as well.  Can you introduce me to some?  I need more like minded individuals!  :)

Calling all weirdo's, misfits, Emo's, withdrawn people, hermits, agoraphobics, other phobics, anxiety ridden people, whomever.  You have found a home here.  Take your butt and park it with me for a while.  I'd like to shoot some crazy talk with you, and discuss how weird it feels to be around normal people.
Let's enjoy being from another planet together.
 
Now where did I park my spaceship...?