Fuckin' weirdo

To: Unsuspecting reader
From: Punk-ass writer
Date: Two days before the day after tomorrow
Subject: [Insert 30 seconds of thinking up a vapid subject line.]

I love really weird people. Whether their weirdness is acquired through time or a birth defect, they spice up the world and, oftentimes, can make you feel normal, which is a good thing. Take Spongebob Square Ear here for instance.



That's one of those things you look at and say, "Damn. I'm so glad I'm not you. ... So, um, can you, like, hear better with that thing?"

Don't get me wrong, I'm weird. I'm fairly sure you're weird, too. Come on. You know you take off your shirt and recite lines from The Terminator in the mirror when no one else is around. Come on, I know you probably fart in bed and force the covers over your unwilling partner's face and laugh hysterically. Don't lie.

I have a bunch of weird friends. I have one friend that treats his dog like a goddamn person—honestly. He gives her four baths a week, which is probably more than he takes, and gives her the window seat in his single cap truck no matter who rides with him. Then I have the one who can make himself throw up and used it all the time in high school to get out of class. Then I have the friend that keeps count of the mile markers on the interstate and becomes extremely perturbed when he loses count (usually when he's drunk).

Have you ever been just flat-out caught doing something weird? I remember when I was a kid that I loved to sing the national anthem. I don't know why. I had a decent voice. Hell, I even sang in my CHURCH choir. Can you believe that shit? Anyway, so I'm sitting in my dad's truck at my aunt's house, acting like I'm listening to the radio until all the people go inside. After I see the door close, I started. I'd always draw it out, you know, and act like I was in Boyz II Men. I got to the hardest part for guys: "And the rockets..." Then, as I was preparing for eeeeeeeeerrRED GLARE, one of my punk-ass cousins popped open the truck door and scared me so much I thought I shat myself. Horrifying, I tell you.

Also, when I thought I wanted to be a kickboxer, I'd shadow box when i thought no one was home. One day, my brother and his friends were smoking weed on our balcony outside, which has a window that allows you to see into the living room. I was probably 8 years old, and I just started goin' at it. I mean, I'm getting embarrassed now just thinking about it. Just think of what I felt like when I heard a knock on the window and looked up and my older, cooler brother and his friends were falling on the fucking floor laughing at me—all without fucking up rotation.

Don't act like I'm weird. I know you're worse. Bitches.