Everybody has them: oddities to help separate the human condition. As is so prevalent on the Net these days, here’s yet another infernal list of some profound eccentricities about which I’m willing to admit:
Waiting for the automatic cycle on an electric toothbrush to stop operating before putting down the gadget, even if all the necessary brushing had been done already, rather than just shutting the device off.
Spending an exorbitant amount of time, caring about what people think or don’t think of me on Social Media. I care less about that in real life.
Procrastinating until the last critical moment for most everything, except for the good stuff that’s gratifying.
Liking animals better than most people I know and detesting overabundant, cute-animal memes on the Internet.
Obsessive-compulsive checking the respective Web site for one’s UPS, USPS, or FedEx delivery after obtaining a tracking number from the merchant of a recently purchased item now on its way, and wondering why the package is sitting for so long at a depot only ten miles away for the past two days.
Stocking up on dental floss religiously, always keeping a glossy white container on hand in the cupboard for a spare. I use it all the time. My preoccupation with the mint-flavored, oral-hygienic strand of synthetic compulsion has been well-documented previously, very notably here, poetically there, and philosophically over there.
The preceding listing just about wraps it up in a nutshell for me. While my insanity is an open book, I might as well add schizophrenia to the mix.
An entry in this journal last month alluded to how the moon affects my ultimate disposition and cynical behavior, waning proportionately with the lunar phases for the former deportment, while waxing with the latter.
As the cusp of the new moon approaches, which occurs tomorrow, I’m feeling progressively at my sardonic best.
Garnered by my intensive experience with the mostly fair, au contraire, and intrinsically polar opposite sex, allow me to present the following as my contribution to this month’s lunar rant:
A Man’s Guide to Women’s English; Or Everything Men Need to Know for Preventing a Meltdown or Divorce.
Yes = No
No = Yes
Maybe = No
I’m sorry = You’ll be sorry!
We need = She wants.
It’s your decision = Her presently preconceived, ultimately correct decision should be obvious by now.
Do what you want = You’ll pay for this later.
We need to talk = She wants to complain.
Sure, go ahead = You better not.
I’m not upset = She’s upset.
You’re so manly = She’s bitching about your beard’s stubble and your body odor.
You’re certainly attentive tonight = She knows sex is all you’re thinking about.
Be romantic and turn out the lights = She doesn’t want to show her flabby thighs and stomach rolls.
This kitchen is so inconvenient = She wants a new house.
I want new curtains = and carpeting, furniture, wallpaper, etc., ad infinitum.
Hang the picture there = No, she means hang it here.
I heard a noise = She noticed you were almost asleep or snoring.
Do you love me? = She’s going to ask for something unreasonably expensive or requiring a lot of work.
How much do you love me? = She did something today you’re really going to flip out about.
I’ll be ready in a minute = Kick off your shoes and find a good game on TV.
Is my butt fat? = Better think up of something good soon to say and not stick your foot in mouth.
You have to learn to communicate = Just agree with her.
Are you listening to me? = Too late, you’re dead.
Was that the baby? = You get out of bed this time and walk him until he goes to sleep.
I’m not yelling = Get ready to be read the riot act.
Whatever = The F-bomb.
A tweet on my Twitter timeline the other day from one of the many gurus, life-coaches and self-proclaimed, social-media experts I follow, who comes up with outrageous advice most of the time said, “If your shoes smell bad, pour kitty litter in them. The smell will miraculously disappear #AwesomeTip.”
First of all, as mentioned in a previous diatribe, I wish tweeters would learn some other descriptive adjectives to take the place of “awesome,” a most tiresome and overused word, please.
Secondly, perhaps this awesome tip would be a practical savior to eliminate raunchy-smelling sneakers, but only if no cats had access to them. I’ve found a feline’s unwanted present in my shoes on at least one occasion, many moons ago.
I hope your new moon is a grand event. Thanks for stopping in and grazie for your continued support.