I really don't talk to strangers. Despite the fact that I am an adult, and more than capable of taking care of myself, I still don't like to talk to people I don't know. It's not because I think they are going to try to lure me into their car with promises of beer and hot dogs, but because I'd rather not waste my time with people I'll never see again.
Also, most strangers are assholes. Especially when you are driving. I remember once I was giving some a driving lesson. We were stopped at a stop sign, waiting to turn, and the people behind us where screaming obscenities at us for not moving fast enough. I turned out the window that they should shut the hell up. And then it happened. My driving student accidentially put the car in reverse and backed right into the mean stranger's truck. Needless to say, we were both a little embarassed.
Then last night upon returning from the Philles game my wife and I stopped to get some coffee at a food store, and while we were waiting in line, this former hippy tried to talk to me.
"We have a mass murderer in the Whitehouse, and the papers are still talking about Clinton". She said this pointing to a story about Sandy Burgler's pant stuffing antics.
I just nodded and tried to ignore said hippy. She was in a wheelly cart, probably because George Bush personally stole her ability to walk, so I cut her some slack. I was tired, and didn't want to point out that the only people George Bush killed in mass quantities were the bad guys; terrorists and islamofascists.
I don't like to talk to strangers, I keep my politics to myself (except here), I'd love to go around to random strangers and ask why John Kerry and John Edwards like to cuddle, or why Hillary Clinton screams when she talks, or that Al Gore has tottaly gone insane, or many other things which stick to rules of common sense.
Ikea: Swedish for overpriced crap
We went to Ikea this weekend. What a crappy place. We went to the housewares section, and I think the things; from spatulas to ashtrays, to wall clocks, look liked they came from a dollar store liquidation. Really overpriced junk. And talk about frightening experiences. While there we are not shoppers, but "visitors", and the people who work there aren't associates, they are "Co-Workers". Someone suggested we go to Ikea, as we would like it. I think not. I have my own style, and it isn't in the style of wanna be So-Ho beat poet. |  |
