Today I learned that I am incapable of executing the basic skills of human existence (by somehow stabbing myself with a pen hard enough to draw blood), and yet somehow can understand Simpson’s Paradox without complaint. *Sigh* Seriously, I think I skipped “Life as a Human Adult 101″ somewhere along the line:
Dishwashing: I am literally in awe of people who can do this adequately. I always end up leaving a giant spot of dried-on goo that somehow turned itself invisible while I was scrubbing the danged pan left, right, and sideways (there’s an innuendo for ya). Also, why are there six different tools for this seemingly simple task? It just leaves me perplexed. Am I supposed to use steel wool on stainless, or a sponge? What about Barkeeper’s Friend vs. Comet? I’m pretty sure only one of those goes on dishes.
This is why when I actually own a dishwasher, everything (and I mean everything) is going in it. None of this whining over “water spots” on the drinking glasses. Its far more gross to have to stick your hands in the watery, mushy remains of everyone’s dinner.
Ordering From a Menu: I’ll admit, I’m probably the diner from hell for most servers. I’m the person who intently stares at their menu for ten minutes, and then says “Oh, do me last” because I still can’t decide. Then when the poor waiter/tress takes the other people’s orders as slowly as they possibly can and actually gets to me, I start asking things like “Can I have a burger with no bun and a salad with no croutons? Does this have wheat flour? Is the Soup of the Day gluten-free?” So they have to scurry back to the kitchen to ask the cook, and everybody gets their food later. Or the soup actually isn’t gluten free, in which case we go back to the staring-at-the-menu-intently part.
Picking a Lucrative Profession: Today I looked at the pay rates for Cracked.com and realized that one two page feature article would pay more than the short story I’m trying to sell.
Not Feeding the Trolls:I know, I know, its Rule #14 of the Internet, but whenever I see one of those crazy people (“Obamacare will use electric chairs on old people, let’s all go to Canada!”) commenting on a YouTube video or a news story, I have this need to rip apart their stupidity, or at least expose them to the twin lights of
“reason” and “moderation.” I’m usually a pretty even-tempered person, but it drives me up the wall when other people aren’t.
I think what I’m secretly hoping for is that one day when someone says, “Why yes! I see now–calling Romney a genocidal Hitler-tyrant may have been a bit over-exaggerated. I will try to approach things with sanity from now on.” In reality what often happens is I get called a fag/fascist or ignored.
Someday I’ll post this four-page-long message exchange I had with a guy who inexplicably kept calling me names from the Bible, and trying to convince me that only black people went to heaven and Jewish people didn’t exist.
Spelling “Necessary”: Come on, isn’t it a weird word?
Talking on the Telephone: I am not the greatest conversationalist face-to-face. It’s part of the reason why I like writing and texting (speech is desperately in need of an editing feature) and look forward to the day when humans evolve into mouthless beings. When I’m talking to someone in real life, I’m still awkward, but at least I can watch people’s facial expressions and time accordingly.
When I’m on the phone, though, all that goes away. First, there’s the awkward silence when you both think that the other person is going to talk. Then there’s the awkward silence on my end (because for some reason it’s really hard to understand people when I can’t watch their mouths moving) while I’m trying to process the last sentence. Then we both keep talking at the same time, and both people get frustrated and confused.
Honestly, sometimes I just let the answering machine pick it up so I can email the person back (or time it for when I know they’re gone, so their answering machine gets it). Does that make me a bad person? I hope not. I swear I’ll pick up if someone dies.