Tuesday, June 3, 2008
I'm not touching you, I'm not touching you, I'm not...MOM!!!!!!!
The receipt on the left represents the lengths to which I will go to in my ongoing effort to never again have one-on-one human contact with strangers. (click the image to see it in all of its odd glory)
I opted to use a debit card to pay for three copies totaling twenty nine cents rather than have to go to the (not busy at all) counter to pay with actual money (coins scrounged from my car).
I find that this is becoming a bit of a problem in my daily life lately:
*I do all of my banking either on-line or via cash machines, often disoriented and asking the machines when we're nearing the end of the transaction, "do you have any lollipops?"
*I opt to buy clothing and shoes online, often paying for both shipping and returns, just so they're not "judging" me about my large-ish (9.5) hooves and less than conventional taste in fashion.
*I started using drugstore.com to buy things like lotion and cosmetics, when often times they are actually cheaper at the Walgreens 2 miles from my house.
*I have been spearheading the national campaign to get drive thru windows at Chipotle and Jimmy Johns. We're only 39, 994 signatures away from the 40,000 we need. Go, us!
* I recently spent 4 hours and 27 minutes yelling into the window of a residential residence, "Cheeseburger, nothing but ketchup and cheese, small fries, and a large vanilla malt! LARGE VANILLA MALT! PLEASE!" before I realized I wasn't going to have my wishes fulfilled. Alcohol may or may not have been involved. Sad Cheetos on the couch in front of bad late-night TV may have occurred, no one can really say.
What is wrong with me that I need to seek out any available option that doesn't involve actually talking to humans without an intercom involved? At what point did typing my credit card information into the computer become more desirable than discussing the finer points of cat collars with Tobie, the ambiguously ambiguous man (?) at the pet store? At what point do I start printing my political manifestos on cut up brown paper bags and plotting my coup led entirely by members of the Menudo fan club?
I'm a bit worried.
If I stop clipping my toenails and move to a cabin in the woods where I need to save my feces in a jar for "future scientific research", well...
I just hope y'all intervene.
Get me a nice haircut, a lovely hot-stone, salt-scrub pedicure, a handful of anti-psychotics and a tumbler of vodka and tell me how nice the world is.
Remind me that recluses rarely look sexy on the 6:00 news.
Remind me that physically sexually harassing strangers is fun! With a capital F!
Remind me that my husband will probably leave me for a non people-phobe.
Remind me that hairy, ungroomed hermits rarely get laid.
Remind me how much I secretly enjoy but act grossed out about the "too long" hug.
Remind me how much I love touching butts.
Remind me about how much I LOVE skeeving out people by putting my hand on their arm or shoulder when I'm talking to them, for fun.
Remind me that I can't give y'all a nice, big mushy, wet kiss when I meet you if I continue like this, therefore scarring you for life and causing you to recoil into your own little world where you neither touch nor directly speak to anyone.
XO (big, wet, mushy direct human contact kisses and hugs from me, even if it totally grosses you out)