I think they call that Karma

Ever since I wrote that post in which I shamefully confessed to recently using the R Word -- and for the record, I really do feel guilty every time I say it. It's just like word vomit. I don't even know it's coming until I've already projectile spewed it across the conversation -- I've been doing things that have not exactly been reflective of my level of competency. Wait, let me amend that. I've been doing even more things than usual that have not exactly been reflective of my level of competency.

Case in point: Two nights ago I was getting ready for bed. Everyone has their nightly rituals and mine includes packing my bags for the next day to ensure full body coverage while I brush my teeth and rinse. With a mouth full of mouthwash, I threw a bag of toiletries into my bag and decided to light a candle. I lit the wick and shook the match to kill the flame. Only the flame didn't go out. I felt the tips of my fingers get hot as the flame quickly ate the stem of the match. And that's when I blew mouthwash all over my bed.

It didn't even occur to me in that split second that if I blew, it wasn't going to be air that left my mouth, it was going to be mouthwash. So yeah. Instead of filling my rooms with the fragrance of warm apple cider, I got to go to bed with mint mouthwash wafting through the air.

Not only have I been doing things that are just dumb (really, really dumb. For real.), I've also been displaying a certain amount of -- how do I put this delicately? -- abnormal social behavior. In other words? Sometimes I act like I have fucking aspergers.

[Ed note: To fully explain this next story, I'm going to have to give you a little background. We have this friend. I swear. And he comes from a relatively large and relatively boisterous family. That's one of the reasons I enjoy him so much. I relate. Anyway. He recently told me the story of last year's family Christmas dinner, when a pair of dentures went missing and too many bottles of Wild Turkey were sucked dry and that there almost exactly sums up every one of my family's holiday parties only replace the dentures with car keys and add a little toilet humor with that apple pie and a few dozen more bottles of wine and whammo, you've got a Yellaphant family party every time. But my favorite part of my friend's story was his reenactment of his grandmother's friend screaming "GODDAMNIT, KENNETH" throughout the evening. And I don't know what it is about the thought of a little old lady screaming obscenities, but it just tickles me pink.]

ANYWAY. This past weekend we went to a Halloween party. And when I think about that evening now, I'm completely creeped out at myself for the way I behaved. And not the good type of Halloween creeped out. The Why Do I Ever Let Myself Go Out In Public Creeped Out. Let me paint you a picture: me, mask on, sucking beer from a can through a straw, leaning against a wall, talking to no one, staring blankly at everyone around me, stuffing a plate full of Rice Krispy treats into my mouth, and pausing from my feast of beer through straw and candy only to exclaim to absolutely no one in particular "GODDAMNIT, KENNETH." Over and over and over and over again. Every time there was a pause in the conversation, I would chime in from the corner. "GODDAMNIT, KENNETH." I'd interrupt people in the middle of stories to proclaim, "GODDAMNIT, KENNETH." It was like a couldn't stop. I was overcome with a sudden case of tourettes and all I could say was "GODDAMNIT, KENNETH."

To make matters slightly worse, my "mask" was a picture of my friend's head, enlarged to scale, rubberbanded to my head. People were visibly grimacing as they walked past me. I'm still not sure if those grimaces were because my costume was just so real, or if it was site of me, wig askew, silently stuffing fist fulls of candy into my mouth and talking to myself.

In my defense, I had just run 20 miles that morning and I didn't get a chance to eat dinner, so I'm pretty sure I would have been drunk after just 1.5 beers. Multiply that by about 6 and you're getting a little closer to my level of retardation antisocial behavior.

Also? I just spent the last 25 minutes searching for videos of snoring pugs and laughing out loud by myself. Normal social behavior for a 26-year-old professional? Meh. You're welcome.

So yeah. I act without thinking, practice little to no self control, and talk nervously to myself in social settings. People who live in glass houses shouldn't throw no motherflipping stones.

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