In Search of Isolation

I don’t like people. I used to, but years of customer service have ruined whatever interest I had in meeting new people, and that’s a problem.

Maybe it’s just me, but I think people are getting worse. Maybe I’m biased, but I’ve dealt with way too many assholes lately for it to be a coincidence. Either that, or I’m slowly dying inside.

Whenever the world gets to be too much for me, I like to sit in my room and listen to my records. I know that being by yourself all the time isn’t the best for your mental health, but it’s much better for me than going outside.

I don’t know if my love of isolation will come back to bite me, I’m sure that it’s definitely strained my relationship with my friends and family, and it’s not exactly great for my dating life, but it’s something I desperately need to keep functioning.

Why is that? Why do I feel out of place, floating from one place to another like an errant cloud? Is there something wrong with me, and I just can’t see it? I used to love meeting new people and experiencing new things, but now it’s just a pain in the ass, and I’d rather spin up Malibu and write articles about nothing.

This post is getting heavy, so here’s a baby giraffe.

Dumbasses at Dunkin: Part Two

In today’s issue of Dumbasses at Dunkin, I’d like to share with you one of the interesting customers who makes my day a little less shitty, by being a piece of shit themselves.

First thing’s first, I should give a little context. Our bathroom’s been acting up lately, and since it’s the only one in the store, we’ve had some unhappy customers complain. Usually, they understand that the absence of a bathroom is not a big deal for the 5 minutes they spend in out store. Not this man.

This gentleman comes into the store, and immediately demands a bathroom. When I informed him of the bathroom situation, he became quite enraged, insisting that it is illegal to keep him from the out-of-order bathroom, ( spoiler alert: it’s not) and insisted I provide him access. Now, usually people understand that our bathroom is broken because they know how terribly the general public treats bathrooms they don’t have to clean, but this man was different.

After 5 minutes of trying to communicate to the gentleman that the only bathroom in the store was out of order, he exploded. He proceeded to go on a racially-charged rant about how the owner of the gas station was discriminating against him because he was Pakastani, which has probably happened before, so I tried to stay composed. After another round of arguement, the man told me that he would be calling the State House, and that we’d be shut down. Lovely.

He called them up, and I could slowly see his face fall as they presumably told him not only was this the wrong place to call, but that he didn’t have a case. As he hung up the phone, he turned to me and called me “Another one of those racist Brazilians” which is a fucking ridiculous sentance, since I’m about as white as you can be, and I don’t speak Portuguese. As Mr. Grumpypants left, he shouted that he would “Shut this place down, and sue the shit out of you! Just you wait!” Well, tick tock, I don’t have all day.

Fear and Loathing in Massachusetts

So, I’m a tad drunk, (shocker), and I’ve been thinking about the creative process, how the flow of ideas in my brain translates to the words I type out. I can’t control their generation, so I have to filter them for content. Due to my wonderful neurological disorder, I’m bombarded by thoughts every second of every day, and some of them aren’t pretty.

My thoughts are coming in free form jazz, with no semblance of structure or decorum, they just exist. I’m not blessed, I’m cursed by the inability to capitalize on the ideas I have, and when they don’t materialize, I feel like a lazy sack of donkey shit for not being focused enough to do anything with the gift I’ve been given. Wow, that’s such a douchey thing to say, there are millions of people who also got straight A’s in English who don’t think they’re gifted writers, so what makes me so fucking special?

Maybe bitching about how unhappy I am online isn’t healthy, maybe it’s just a coping mechanism, maybe I’m just full of myself and like to read my own writing, I really don’t know. What I do know is that Frank Sinatra sounds better on vinyl, Hunter S Thompson was a genius, and that Lil B the Based God is an internet icon.

The Great Emu War

During my daily Wikipedia dive, I found something that shocked me: The Great Emu War of Australia. Now, Australia seems like both an awesome place to visit, and a horrifying deathscape straight out of Mad Max. Australia is where the British dumped their prisoners, who grew up to be hearty, resilient people, who then got beaten by flightless birds. This historical event makes me even less likely to visit Australia, just in case I run into an emu with a grudge against humans.

The Great Emu War happened in 1932 due to the ever-increasing number of emus, leading to the decimation of crops. The farmers, understanding that you probably shouldn’t fuck with a bird that can keep up with your car, called the government for aid. By the time the army arrived, over 20,000 emus were causing a ruckus across Australia. Australian leadership dispatched Major G.P.W Meredith to take care of them.

On the first day, there were 50 emus, and the Army had machine guns. No problem, right? Wrong. Those crafty little bastards used guerrilla tactics and divided the Australian forces, making it so that they were only pursuing a single emu at a time. Only 12 emus were killed before the machine guns started to jam, and the emus retreated. Emus-1, People-0.

This went on for around a month, with the emus displaying similar tactics to Zulu warriors. In the first 6 days of fighting, 2,500 rounds were fired, and only 50-100 emus were killed. Shortly after, the soldiers ambushed over a thousand emus, firing tens of thousands of bullets, and only killing around a dozen emus. Emus-2, People-0.

During the course of the conflict, the soldiers observed the emus following pack leaders, and obeying commands from them. This is a terrifying idea, that giant birds that can outrun my Honda can communicate with each other well enough to defeat a military unit.

After too many defeats from flightless birds, the Australian government had enough, and pulled the troops out. Emus-3, People-0.

This blew me away, I’ve seen emus in nature documentaries, YouTube videos, and Kangaroo Jack, but I never would’ve thought they were capable of defeating humans. If you’re from Australia, I really want to know more about this, is this taught in schools? Are there any other wacky wars like this? Let me know, I’m super interested in your crazy country.

Winter In New England

I hate snow. It’s the worst part of winter. If you’ve never had to shovel snow, you’re lucky, it’s awful. Imagine this: it’s 7am, you’ve got to go to work in an hour, it’s 15 degrees out, the wind is blowing cold air straight into your brain, and there’s 200 pounds of frosty bullshit blocking your car in. You really can’t just ignore it, or it’ll freeze into an immoveable block of ice that won’t go away until May.

As I type this, it’s snowing out, which means that I’ll have to venture out into the snowy roads. There are few things worse than driving your crappy front-wheel drive sedan in the snow; you have to be careful turning, speeding up, slowing down, stopping, going uphill, going downhill, it’s just a nightmare. The only thing worst is how people from New England drive in the snow. You’d think they’d get used to it, but no, they still drive like nothing’s there, and end up running off the road, or crashing into each other. Every time I see some yokel in a giant SUV going 65 in a 30 with 5 inches of snow on the road, I wonder what’s going through their head, do they want to skid off the road into a snowbank, because that’s how you skid off thebroad into a snowbank.

Other than that, snow isn’t all bad; it’s pretty to look at, as long as I’m not planning on going anywhere and I’ve shovelled the important parts of my house. I love walking down the street during a snowstorm, looking at the snow-laden trees. I can only handle snow until New Years, anything after that just bugs the hell out of me and is an inconvenience.