Okay, so growing up, other kids were always telling me how weird I was. I was pretty sure I was as abnormal as they come. Little did I know that normality is relative. Because, quite frankly, there are some serious fruitcakes out there!
I have a friend who always says if you look around at all your friends and there’s not a crazy one, then you’re it.
In the real world, I know I am normal. The fact that my family discusses bull semen at the supper table in no way, shape, or form changes that I am a mere commoner in a land of freakazoids. Now, perhaps it’s not normal that I travel in the same circuits as the freaky folks, but I’m going to pretend to overlook that for now. I’m simply saying that if you venture out into the world of state fairs, carnivals, movie festivals, public schools, or art shows you’re gonna find an “interesting” cast of characters.
I’m just wondering what goes through a person’s head before they go to a state fair that makes them think, “Hey, we’re going to be walking around all day, going on rides, walking in livestock barns, I think I better throw on a pair of high heels.” Yeah, brilliant plan, and if you think you’re impressing some guy, you’re not. He’s thinking you’re an idiot, too. Not only is he also wishing everybody would quit staring at him and his high-maintenance date, but he’s wondering if he’s going to be expected to piggy-back you back to the car. And, no, it won’t be cute when his back hurts for the next 3 days because of it.
Another thing I ponder is why people don’t feel the need to shower before they go out and about on the town. Seriously? Stringy, nasty I-haven’t-washed-my-hair-in-5-days bed head is not attractive or appropriate anywhere! When the sweat is rolling off your greasy ass hair like an oil and vinegar experiment, you should probably wash it. My personal favorite is greasy dyed black hair with 50 piercings, fading arachnid tattoos, a top hat, feathers through the ears, and a wrinkled non-washed sloppy tea-length black skelator t-shirt over baggy 15-zippered, chained up, cuffed up black jeans on a unisex “Pat.” Plus, if you’re wearing that, you probably missed the whole middle school lesson that cheap perfume/cologne does NOT cover up body odor. Deodorant is your friend, I’m not. So, yes, I was pointing and laughing. Call me a horrible person but if you’re working that hard to get my attention – you’re gonna get it, but it ain’t gonna be pleasant.
Finally, I question a purple and orange tie-dye tube-top mini-dress wearing, chunky girl speaking Carnese. Yeah, you heard me. Carnese may be a language, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and say not one to be proud of. True story. For those clueless like me, there is a language that carnies use to talk about normal people and things, I’m assuming with envy. It’s like pig latin but not understandable or remotely possible to follow. Crazy enough, they teach their children this, and they speak it when their less-than-stellar child is getting arrested for threatening to knife a non-bearded-lady’s child. Quality lifestyles. At least, the nerdy American flag suspenders-wearing tuba guy sitting on the parade float has a skill. He may look a little like Colonel Sanders, but again, he’s employed and amazingly enough, clean. What a concept!
I guess the lesson here is that when I show up to the art contest in my flip-flops, Nike shorts, and Secret Solid, I’ll be the out-of-place, nerdy, good-smelling one, but I think I’m okay with that!