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)
WM
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35 comments:
i totally want to start touching arms. or maybe slowly slide my hand down their arm until im holding the person's hand when i talk to them. i can just imagine!
I go through the same phases too. Sometimes I feel like I've got the big D kicked down onto the floor, and I need to keep all things held constant by not going out into public. Once I do into public, of course it's fine. But I have a hard time gathering inertia and getting out of the nest.
(I am entirely too independent on the internet for doing the work that I should be doing out in the world - shopping for groceries, shoes, and clothes and house remodel stuff - finding contractors, researching appliances, etc. I need an intervention.)
I do the same thing with banking. I have no idea what to say to tellers, or what forms I need to fill out, so I just do it all online. Although, the last time I was in a bank I saw Ray Bourque (the hockey dude!) at the next teller over and I was so excited I almost dropped my coffee on him.
I don't like people myself. I try to avoid them at all costs.
My hometown Jimmy John's has a drive thru. Jealous?
Great... now I want JJ's Salt and Vinegar potato chips for breakfast.
I intended to stop at the only chinese fast-food restaurant in my part of town the other day--just for some steamed rice. The drive-thru was closed, and I couldn't bear the thought of going inside and ordering it at the counter, so I just did without. So silly! But there you have it.
I got really excited the other day because I thought there was an online grocery store that served my area. The thought of never having to go grocery shopping again was almost orgasmic. Sadly, I was mistaken. Boooo.
don't go.
we hug you.
The first thing I am going to do when I meet you in person is lick your face.
Funny, I'm the opposite, though I did go through a year-long phase where the ONLY place I bought clothes was victoriassecret.com (and occasionally llbean.com). I think I maxed out, and now I WANT to go try things on in unflatterly lit dressing rooms and smile and exchange pleasantries with the check-out people.
I can relate, as I'm occasionally in need of the same intervention. We'll come and get you if you disappear into a cabin (but if you refuse to re-join society, you should rename yourself the Unablogger).
I feel the same way. I like shopping online because I HATE interacting with overly friendly sales people in stores. When one of those solicitous souls approaches me, I want to dive under the nearest rack and hide.
L-A-Z-Y you ain't got no alibi...
But don't be offended,dear , the only reason I recognize this type of behavior is because I practice it myself. Every day.
Actually, I don't so much like to call it lazy as I do partaking of all the modern conveniences that someone who understands me well created!
;)
Whiskey, dear, there's medication that can help you overcome this thing. Really.
I had to really really fight with myself to go over to a friend's house for dinner last Saturday night instead of staying home and watching old Gilmore Girls dvds. What is happening to us??? I'm glad I'm married or I might never leave the house.
--Kim
I go through the same phases...so glad computers are around. Otherwise, I would have to actually deal with people.
I will sign the petition for Jimmy Johns and Chipotle. I do not need to wait in line for some idiot to call their wife/mama/sister/friend/husband/whatever to ask them what kind of salsa they want on their burrito. I know what I want and can order by the drive thru window, thank you very much. So, where to I sign?
Just don't go sitting on any toilets for two years.
I find myself doing the same things. It seems like whenever I deal with actual clerks (or whatever they are called) I am annoyed by how rude/dumb they are.
But you've got to get out there and put your hand on people's shoulder. Ha ha.
You had me at size 9 and a half feet.
"Alcohol may or may not have been involved..."
You're preaching to the choir, sister.
9.5 shoes? Heh. That's my short (5'8") wife's size. The daughters go up from there, all the way to women's 13 for my 6' eldest.
We have a drive through at Jimmy Johns!
I see your 9.5 and raise you to 11WW.
Please invite me over for rhubarbtinis. I'll bring something yummy to share, like vodka and oreos.
xoxo
~S
Betcha if you pledge to not talk to another human being for the next week and a half you will be craving conversation by day 6.
I need to read backwards to discover this change from hard drinking party going big smoochy woman to recluse. I've been a recluse for years and only just now, because of your suggestion, realized I should be saving my feces for future research.
I went to high school with a guy who saved his toenail clippings and kept them in quart jars. We thought he was strange. But nobody tried to do an intervention--but the girls were too grossed out by this bit of eccentricity to actually date him. Turns out he inherited millions and is now married to a much younger woman and has a couple of lovely children. Is there a point to all of this? Probably not. But you don't seem like a recluse to me.
There are hotels in Japan where you don't have to come into contact with anyone. You check in on a screen, and everything is automated.
Indulge!
I hate strangers, they are usually a**h*les.
I always choose the misanthropic option if it's there. What's so good about people who aren't me? Nothin'.
I think if any of us actually enjoyed talking to other humans in person more, we wouldn't be blogging.
As for the drive-through, several years ago, the McDonald's near my apartment at the time started this weird experiment where you had to actually drive up and talk to an employee directly and THEN drive to another window to pick up your food. I was so glad they nixed that idea as quickly as they did. When I'm having my once-a-year guilty pleasure Big Mac, I really don't need anyone staring me in the face while I order it.
If you move to a cabin in the woods, you're going to have a hell of a time trying to get delivery and postal men to come bring you your stuff.
Also, ungroomed hermits rarely get laid. Just reminding you.
Um wait? I thought Tobie worked at my 'Petsmart'.... How did he/she make it all the way to Minnesota? Job transfer perhaps? Lord I'm gonna miss that son-of-a...uh,...daughter-of-a... Oh well, that bitch!
And how can we (the entire WM-reading world), be entirely sure you aren't already saving your feces in a jar? Hmmmmm?
btw: Let's hear it for the size 9.5 foot... It can kick some serious ass!
F@&%'ing Google/Blogger doesn't recognize me so I'm posting this as ANON... But it's me, embee from thepapertreehouse! This is what I get for making fun of Tobie.
I'm a social misfit, but I've found something that has helped me 500%.
I actually went out and bought a pair of size 15, red, Chuck Taylors. Within in minutes, I have 3-4 chicks asking me all kinds of personal questions. I still don't understand why red shoes seem so intriguing to women.
Most of my favorite people are strangers.
I've always depended on the kindness of strangers.
Coming thisclose to jumping over the counter and strangling a douchey condescending cable "customer service" rep got me on bill-paying and book/jewelry/etc-internet buying mode. But I still love to try perfumes, lotions, at the mall, and snacks at Trader Joe's and such, so I pull myself together and drag my antisocial butt out every now and then.
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