Twisted Anthropology
so here's what's up.
you know that old saying, "looks can be deceiving"? cliche, meet real life.
i have pink hair and i wear huge sunglasses and i have been known to break out the sparkly fishnet tights on occasion. people probably look at me and think, "oooh, there's a girl who likes to party." well... yes, if by "party" you mean curl up on the couch in my library with augusten burroughs and ignore the knocks on the door and the telephone ringing.
to put it simply, i despise humanity because i don't understand it. [insert morrissey.] no really, the whole thing confuses me. unfortunately (or fortunately, or neither, really) the nature of my job and my boyfriend's job and the fact that i have children who have something against living closeted in their bedrooms wondering why there are people outside who look like them but get to enjoy the sunlight dictates that i have to immerse myself, to some extent, in this foreign place.
so. off i go to baseball games and bars and other places where people like me are the war criminals of society, held captive until we either assimilate or break down and wind up yelling woo! while standing in a puddle of nerve-induced vomit.
here are my observations thereof.
stop looking at me.
i have pink hair and i wear huge sunglasses and i have been known to break out the sparkly fishnet tights on occasion. people probably look at me and think, "oooh, there's a girl who likes to party." well... yes, if by "party" you mean curl up on the couch in my library with augusten burroughs and ignore the knocks on the door and the telephone ringing.
to put it simply, i despise humanity because i don't understand it. [insert morrissey.] no really, the whole thing confuses me. unfortunately (or fortunately, or neither, really) the nature of my job and my boyfriend's job and the fact that i have children who have something against living closeted in their bedrooms wondering why there are people outside who look like them but get to enjoy the sunlight dictates that i have to immerse myself, to some extent, in this foreign place.
so. off i go to baseball games and bars and other places where people like me are the war criminals of society, held captive until we either assimilate or break down and wind up yelling woo! while standing in a puddle of nerve-induced vomit.
here are my observations thereof.
stop looking at me.