Bonk. Bonk. Run. Bonk. Run. Bonk

As you can probably tell, if you’re a regular reader of my blog, I’m a odd yet even mixture of tolerance and impatience. As a teacher and a coach, I am almost boundless in my ability to wait until my students or athletes understand my point or purpose. My tank is seemingly unlimited in these arenas; however, there isn’t much left for the rest of my life – my great, lovely wife gets a majority of the remainder. With that being said, I want to go on a rampage on the track at the middle school near my house. When I go running, I start off in a pissed off mood because I’m, well, running. Here is a kind of stream of consciousness, lap-by-lap account of my 3 mile run:

Lap 1: Bonk. Bonk. Bonk. Bonk. Bonk (I say that in my head when I run and my head bounces around at the beginning). Bonk. Bonk. Bonk. I hope those kids playing soccer on the track in front of me move out of the way as I pass them. I can’t veer from my path. Any extra distance will mess up my 3 mile run. Don’t want to do anymore than I have to. I made it by them, though they didn’t seem to take any notice of my running as I lumbered by them.

Lap 2: Uh. Uh. Uh. Uh. Uh. Uh (Go from bonk to uh). Uh. Uh. Uh.  I feel like falling asleep while I run. Maybe if I close my eyes while I run, I’ll feel better. I want some milk. Mmm… milk. There is a blockade of women coming at me. Don’t they know we run counter-clockwise on tracks? Maybe they weren’t taught that in their high school in their country. Maybe in the southern hemisphere they run the opposite way. Hmmm… maybe like the Coriolis Effect. I’m too polite to say anything but annoyed to let this problem go unsung. I’ll give them a dirty look. Dirty look possibly the same as I’m-running look. Reevaluate later.

Lap 3: Breathing in through my nose and exhaling through my mouth. A girl told me to do that in college once. Don’t know if it works because I can’t do it for longer than a lap. Girl’s walking her dog on the track. That shouldn’t be. I will throw an internal hissy fit if that dog poops on the track. That soccer ball is going to hit me I know it. I am SO going to punt it over the school if it hits me. God, help me, I will f*ing punt it. F*ing punt it so far that they won’t even be able to find it. Never.

Lap 4: Did I run 2 or 3 laps already? What’s a good way to remember this? I can remember letters better. I am on D right now. Did A,B, and C. I’m on D now. Ding dong, ding-a-ling-a-ding-dong. Donkey. Dog. Der. Der. Der. Here comes that blockade of women. Look at my face! Do you see me rolling my eyes, Coriolis sisters? Huh? These eyes… they roll for you. LOOK AT THEM. Do. Do. Do. Do.

Lap 5: Er. Er. Er. Er. Elephant. F*ing soccer ball. Everything. Boys are hitting pop flys over the track. Why are they doing that? Ethel. Ethel. Ethel. I swear to God I will throw their f*ing baseball so far if it hits me. So… far. Where are their parents? Ellie. Ellie. Ellie. Ellie. Maybe I should stop running so I can take these boys’ dads out. What? Yeah, your boy’s ball hit me? My fist is about to hit you – in the nose. That’d be so sweet. Uh, hon, why do you have a bloody nose? Some bad ass punched me in the nose for not watching Billy more closely. Sometimes it takes a broken nose to learn. Nostril, mouth. Nostril, mouth. Move Coriolis girls.

Lap 6: F-word. F-word. F-word…

Lap 7: GD-word. GD-word. GD-word…

Lap 8: Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate. Hate…

And so on…

This would go on and on until I either finished the 3 miles or left early in a quiet and peaceful protest that no one knows about but me. I’m working on a letter that would go in our community newspaper about track education classes. In a classroom setting, I feel like I’d have more patience and not want to kick their f*ing soccer balls over the f*ing, stupid school with its smelly face.

Anti-Social Me 1256

I’m an ultra punctual person. I’m never late for anything. For me, 15 minutes early is on time. However, I realized recently that this punctuality directly conflicts with my anti-social nature. Let me explain: I get to places early and end up having to make small talk with acquaintances or strangers while we wait for whatever we’re there for to begin. Someone needs to start up some classes that teach people like me how to make small talk. I have no chit-chat abilities. Like, is there some secret topic that I can bring up to engage others and prevent them from talking about whatever they want to talk about? Here are some ideas for after the hellos off of the top of my head:

1.    “I just bought a boat.” This one comes from Seinfeld. He used it to get a girl who might question him off topic. The problem with this is that I’d need to research boats because what happens when they know a lot about boats and I don’t? I’ll be searching answers to their detailed questions. I could say, “Well, I just bought it today, so I don’t know the ins and outs yet.” I could just tell them the color. “It’s white with blue trim. Real reminiscent of the Spanish Armada.” I could also say it has some sort of interesting name and get double off topic and talk about the name. “It’s the USS Banana Hammock.” I would then go into detail about how it got the name. I’d talk about the irony of the USS part because it’s actually quite small, though I don’t know the exact dimensions. The Banana Hammock part could be some sort of anecdote about the previous captain’s predilection toward Speedos. Then I would go into the color of his banana hammock. “White with blue trim… ha ha ha ha ha.” Checkmate person. And, guess what? The meeting just started.  

2.    “I spent all morning watch and editing Chris Mullin highlights to put on Youtube.” The problem with this is that I’d need to explain to the person that I’m not racist. You see, I figure one would need to have a bit of the old white power mentality in them to create a Chris Mullin highlight reel. Like, who cares about Chris Mullin besides people who want to prove that white people can play basketball, too? Maybe a family member would do it, so I could actual go down that route and say I’m his cousin. I think the family member angle would be harder because they’d ask questions about him. On the other hand, they would never be able to crosscheck my assertions, so I could go wherever I wanted with this. “Oh yeah, Chris is real into anime. Probably the biggest collection in Carson City. Oh, you didn’t know how lives there? Yeah, he’s a big Area 51 nut so he likes to be close to the scene but not too close.” Ding. The meeting started.

3.    “I have to use the restroom.” This always works in extreme situations, but, like I said, I get to places 15 minutes early. Spending over 10 minutes in a restroom only means one thing: drug use. Were you thinking pooping? Geez, come one, I have more class than that. So, if you’re okay with the people thinking you’re doing lines off of their fine marble counter tops then by all means go for it. I, on the other hand only, use this method just for getting out of conversations and not waiting for meetings to start.

Three is all I have for now. They are three perfect outs though. I fail to see any holes in the logic here.  Try them, pitch them in strong.

Anti-Social Me! Part II

I’ve talked about being anti-social before, so if you read my blog, you know that I will do whatever it takes to avoid talking to someone… actually, everyone. I’ll walk the long way to avoid certain colleagues at work. I will change my work out schedule because someone I know goes there at the same time. I even stopped going to the close Subway because someone I know works there. I will do whatever it takes to not partake in chit-chat. It really isn’t the other person’s fault (most of the time) but I’m just an awkward, possibly inconsiderate guy to mild acquaintances. But again, if you read my blog regularly, you already know this about me.

I reached my all time low the other day, which has made me rethink my whole perspective when it comes to avoidance. The grocery store I go to has two entrances: lately one side has had a pack of girl scouts guarding it like the bridge troll from The Three Billy Goats Gruff and the other entrance was wide open.  Obviously, I enter through the open side. Last time, I entered and strolled through the store undisturbed, without a care in the world. On a side note, I like going to the store because I find it relaxing. My wife finds it to be the opposite; she can’t stand the crowd and the ensuing stress. My only stress comes from the possibility of running into someone who isn’t a close friend.

After I made my purchases, I casually strolled through the exit, forgetting what was waiting for me on the side I choose – the OTHER side! There they were, harassing everyone that dared to pass them. This required a quick reaction and some evasive maneuvers on my part. I noticed the plant section to my right. I knew if I just made a sharp right I could duck into the bushed and then scurry out of there without being seen. Right as my mind made the decision to take action but before my body reacted, I heard, “Sir, would you like to buy some Girl Scout cookies?” Unfortunately, my body reacted after I heard those words, so as she was finishing, my body darted away from her into the bushes. I was avoiding a sweet, innocent little girl – probably – she could be one of those kids that pulls the wings off mosquito hawks. Who knows. I was able to hide behind the shelves of hydrangea bushes when I made my most critical mistake: I looked back. I looked over my shoulder and she was looking at me with a distraught, pathetic face. It melted me. I lost.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you. I just saw this decorative, ceramic, sunglass-wearing armadillo that I just had to have,” I stammered.

I used all of the cash in my wallet to buy cookies.

The very cash I was going to use at Wendy’s.

Sigh.

Oh, Haircut Lady

I have hair again, so I, unfortunately, have to get my hair cut. I go to a Sports Clips by my work. I’m not sure if it’s a national chain or not, but essentially, it’s a place that specializes in mens haircuts and has televisions that show ESPN. I don’t go there because I’m a manly man who needs to get his hair cut in the most masculine atmosphere possible; I go there because it’s close to work and it’s modestly priced. I’ve been going there for 2 months now, and I’ve had the same lady every time. As you can imagine from reading my previous posts about my anti-social behavior, I hate the chit chat. The conversation problem is exacerbated because she doesn’t ever remember me, which I guess hurts my pride or self-esteem. What is it about me that’s not memorable, dammit? Back to the point, I have the same lady every time and she asks the same questions. I’m sure she has tons of customers, but it’s like she’s never seen me before – every time. I come from swim practice so I’m usually wearing the same thing: gym shorts and a t-shirt that says in big block letters SCHOOL NAME Aquatics. When I come in, I look exactly the same, yet she doesn’t do the detective work to figure out even the most obvious details. She asks me which school I work at without fail, after asking me what I do, of course. 

Well, I’m going to get her to remember who I am if it’s the last thing I do. Here is how our conversation will go next time.

Her: How’s your day going?

Me: Fine – just wanted to get cleaned up for my proctology exam later. You know, look good for the doctor.

Her: Are you just getting off work?

Me: No. I’m still supposed to be there.

Her: Where do you work?

Me: The DPS. I just put the “Next Window” sign up and slipped right out of there. I hate all of the cockroaches that come in there so much. I just want them to pay for my miserable life. Anyways, I figure if they fire me, things will be okay because I’d rather just collect unemployment. 

Her: Oh, the DPS…

Me [Interrupting and staring at her intensely through the reflection of the mirror]: Do you ever feel lost and in need of guidance? When you finish with me, I can go out to my van and get some information for you that could really make a difference in your life. We could even take a drive to the Scientology center and take the personality test. I feel like you’ll score as “attention desirable.” I think we can sort through your personality issues and maybe give you a real shot at life.

Her: Uh…

Me [gripping the arms of the barber chair tightly]: We will assimilate you.

Her:…

Me: Now… wash my hair.

I think she’ll remember for the next time, and more importantly, she probably won’t talk to me either.