Thnxgv

Well, it has been a quiet weekend so far, and I'm rather enjoying it. Except for the fact that I can't go anywhere, or talk to anyone. I was, however, allowed to go with my Mom to get my hair cut. It's basically the same haircut I've been getting since the end of eighth grade, except my bangs are shorter. So, nothing exciting there.

Today, the supposed "highlight" of my weekend went intriguingly:

As you can guess, I am terrible at meeting people. It's probably because I don’t really want to meet new people. I’m quite fine with the people I know now. Obviously, I occasionally soften my robot soul and let people get to know me, because otherwise I would probably be miserable, and have social skills equivalent to those of a slab of concrete. Another thing that makes meeting people hard for me is that if I don’t like someone, it’s incredibly hard for me to hide my disapproval; my words coat themselves with a thick layer of bitter sarcasm. I also don’t relate to people well: I don’t watch movies or television, I listen to music that isn’t on the radio, and for the last few months, marching band took up the majority of my life. So, when I walked into my cousins house, and saw all the unfamiliar faces, I collapsed inside. It meant I would have to awkwardly try to be nice, and friendly to people I don’t know and probably don’t like.
Luckily for me, I have Wes. In situations like this, he is a lifesaver. I can stick with him, and we can avoid human contact together. Generally, when we go to places and we don’t know anyone, and it’s expected that we “hang out with the other kids”, we just sit in the corner and discuss how much and why we don’t like anybody.
Our cousins, Sarah and Joe, are the anti-Adrienne and Wesley. Everything we are, they completely counteract. We have exactly nothing in common. Thus, we usually avoid them, and fulfill our unspoken pact. This time, all the kids from Sarah and Joe’s step-father’s family were there, and Wes and I had never met them. We exchanged exasperated glances, and continued to follow our parents. Parents are the ultimate scapegoat. You can follow them around, and discourage people from talking to you. We did this for a about thirty minutes, until it was time to eat. We were then informed that we had to eat at the “kids table” (because you know, I’m going to spill mashed potatoes all over the carpet). Wesley and I stuck by each other, and sat at the furthest end of the table. After we awkwardly introduced ourselves, the other “kids” at the table (the youngest was eleven), started a conversation about “Live Free and Die Hard”, a movie I will probably never see. Wesley and I stayed away from the conversation. When we had finished eating, I went to go complain at my Dad, to see if he would leave early. He pulled the whole “sometimes it’s not about you” scheme, so I went back upstairs to wait it out. (On a totally unrelated topic that I can’t work into my story: There was this lady with the NASTIEST FEET EVER. I’m serious, it looked like they were dead, and slowly rotting away. They were all grey, and large amounts of skin flaking off, and there were random pockets of ... I don’t know, and one dangerously untrimmed toenail that looked like mice had tried to eat it, but then died trying, and when you walked within ten feet of her, she smelled like corpse [or what I assume corpse smells like] and she was fangoriously fat, and had enormous kankles) Then, in an unexpected turn of events, this girl about my age, named Suzette, I believe, came up to me, did a backbend, and asked me to sit on her stomach. This doesn’t happen to me often (although you would think otherwise), so I didn’t really know how to handle it. I declined her offer, and went to go play Ping-Pong with my Mom. Suzette came up to me and the following conversation took place:

Suzette (S): Hey! Let’s go on a walk!
Me: ... Okay?
S (While on our walk): I love the cold weather! It’s so much better than hot weather. I mean, you can still be hot and naked, but you can always put more layers on in the cold. But I like hot weather because I love swimming!
Me: Uh... yeah. Cold weather is pretty neat.
S: Don’t tell anyone but I had a crush on my cousin when I was younger. Only you and Wesley know.
Me: Oh. Heh.
S: Joe is so mean; One time we had this party and it was really late, and we decided to wait till the morning to clean up, and then Joe and his family make an unexpected visit to our house, and he was all like “I can’t believe how messy this place is.” And we have seven animals!
Me: Heh... he’s pretty obnoxious.
S: AHHAHHAHAHHHA! I KNOW! Your brother is so nice though! You are so lucky!
Me: I know. I don’t thank him enough.
S: I REALLY need new Pomegranate Body Spray! It smells SO good.
Me: Yeah. I like pomegranates.
S: I am totally boy-crazy. See, look at my hand. I wrote all the guys names I like on it. I would have written more, but my Dad took the Sharpie away.
Me: Yeah. I don’t really do things like that.
S: I name a monkey after each guy I like!
Me: What?
S: HAHHAHAHHAHHA! You are the first person to assume that!
Me: Good...?

I swear that is exactly the conversation we had. I’m not making any part of it up.

It reminded me of why I don’t like people, and why I don’t try to make new friends. Because people like her exist.


But in spirit of Thanksgiving (or Thnxgv, if you’re cool), I am thankful for the following:

Jesus.
My fantastic little brother, Wesley.
My parents.
My friends who like me despite my overbearing cynicism and my general dislike of... almost everything everything, and give me a reason to stay alive.
Transformers.
Moccasins.
Harry Potter.
Apple Computer products.
Not being a poor African child with AIDS living on grass ground up with dirt.
Skinny jeans.
Pointy shoes.
The Strokes.
Geraldo at Large.
Mustaches.
Pillows.
Cats.
Charcoal pencils.
Mr. Longo.
Pesto.
Piano.
Showers.
Not living in Nebraska.
Mr. Brumbaugh.
Mall cops.
Nyquil (NOT THE GREEN KIND!)
You. You read this, and for that, I love you. But I probably loved you before that.