So, here it is another friday night, that I've chosen to stay home and ignore the urgings of others to join them at one drinking hole or another to watch Jennifer Love Hewitt talk to the dead.
What the hell does that mean? I'm old? I have a crush on JLH? (I am amazed by her perfectly in place hair - what makes it sooo.. stiff? super glue? Hurricane force winds can't move that shit, oh and what is up with her eyelashes, exactly?)
Seriously, I think if I ever have another night where I wake up in the morning and can't locate my underwear only to have it fall out one leg of my pants at the gas station a few hours later I might drive off the nearest suspension bridge. I don't need those kind of nights ever again. Those nights and paying for gas with CHANGE defined my 20's., and I don't wanna go back.
Perhaps, it's not age, perhaps it's what I affectionately call my antisocial nature. Merriam-Webster defines antisocial as (1)averse to the society of others and (2) hostile or harmful to organized society; behavior deviating sharply from the norm.
So, in the M-W sense of the word I'm not anti-social. I'm not averse to the society of others (ask around, I'm a nice guy!) and I'm only hostile when provoked by stupid people or their sticky-handed children who always want to touch me with their sticky-little fingers, and most of time my hositility is confined to cussing at my steering wheel, and taking out my aggression via angry, young white, probably drug addicted musicians playing what my co-workers call 'chainsaw metal'. Hey, don't hate, it's better than kicking pupppies.
So, alright, we've established that I'm not truly anti-social, however I do seem to choose the company of myself and my dog over that of a myriad of others (seemingly not abnormal others). So what is it?
I could wax poetic here, about solitude, like Thoreau style solitude, but even I can't imagine Holly Springs into a Walden Pond.
So the answer will have to wait for another night, for now, I'm going with the up side, I suspect that I like myself and whether or not the 'others' do is irrelevant., and it sure as hell wasn't 'back in the day'. Okay, so that's no revelation, no oprah-inspired 'light bulb moment', but it's better than focusing too much on the fact that I can't stop looking at JLH's eyelashes. We don't need to investigate that particular compulsion.
What the hell does that mean? I'm old? I have a crush on JLH? (I am amazed by her perfectly in place hair - what makes it sooo.. stiff? super glue? Hurricane force winds can't move that shit, oh and what is up with her eyelashes, exactly?)
Seriously, I think if I ever have another night where I wake up in the morning and can't locate my underwear only to have it fall out one leg of my pants at the gas station a few hours later I might drive off the nearest suspension bridge. I don't need those kind of nights ever again. Those nights and paying for gas with CHANGE defined my 20's., and I don't wanna go back.
Perhaps, it's not age, perhaps it's what I affectionately call my antisocial nature. Merriam-Webster defines antisocial as (1)averse to the society of others and (2) hostile or harmful to organized society; behavior deviating sharply from the norm.
So, in the M-W sense of the word I'm not anti-social. I'm not averse to the society of others (ask around, I'm a nice guy!) and I'm only hostile when provoked by stupid people or their sticky-handed children who always want to touch me with their sticky-little fingers, and most of time my hositility is confined to cussing at my steering wheel, and taking out my aggression via angry, young white, probably drug addicted musicians playing what my co-workers call 'chainsaw metal'. Hey, don't hate, it's better than kicking pupppies.
So, alright, we've established that I'm not truly anti-social, however I do seem to choose the company of myself and my dog over that of a myriad of others (seemingly not abnormal others). So what is it?
I could wax poetic here, about solitude, like Thoreau style solitude, but even I can't imagine Holly Springs into a Walden Pond.
So the answer will have to wait for another night, for now, I'm going with the up side, I suspect that I like myself and whether or not the 'others' do is irrelevant., and it sure as hell wasn't 'back in the day'. Okay, so that's no revelation, no oprah-inspired 'light bulb moment', but it's better than focusing too much on the fact that I can't stop looking at JLH's eyelashes. We don't need to investigate that particular compulsion.
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