Okay, for some reason this blog post didn’t publish on Sunday. I just found it in the “drafts” section of my blog editor while I was looking for what’s going to be my Tuesday random thoughts. I’m not sure if it’s a good idea to publish two blog posts in one day, as one could get overlooked but what the hell.
It’s unlikely that the majority of people that regularly read this blog will ever meet me in person. In some cases that’s my fault for being an inaccessible loner sometimes, but largely it’s a matter of proximity—none of us live near each other. But in case you should happen to meet me in person (or, for that matter, if one of my friends stumbles upon this blog post), there are a few things that you should know if we start engaging in social intercourse with each other.
- I’m not a fan of physical contact. I’m not one of those people who hyperventilates whenever somebody touches me. Still, I usually cringe if somebody taps my shoulder to make a point. There are a few instances when I don’t mind: a polite handshake when the situation legitimately calls for it, bumping into people by accident, and if I know you well enough, a hug upon greeting. I’m not particularly a hug-person but I know a lot, so I’ve learned to live with it.
- When you’re talking to me, there’s a good chance that I’m visualizing what you’re saying being spoken by a turkey high on angel dust. This started out as a joke with a co-worker. It’s become something more like a compulsion. It isn’t all the time and it could just be a phase. But it’s there.
- I constantly try to make jokes in conversation. Often times they fall flat or they’re inappropriate. I can’t help it. I don’t care to, either. Even if people don’t laugh I still often throw them off and I find it entertaining. Knowing this, though, please don’t patronize me. I hate polite laughter. It sounds fake and it’s condescending. Remember, if you don’t laugh I might still enjoy your lack of laughter.
- I really would like it if people started calling me “Slamdango Fistface.” If I’m drunk, you could replace “Fistface” with “Pissedface.” I don’t mind. Either way, I’m not going to ask for it. I want people to start calling me “Slamdango” organically. Again, it could be a phase. But I doubt it.
- I don’t like talking on the phone. No, really—I really don’t like talking on the phone. For me, the phone is a tool to set up times in which we can get together, and then we can talk. But I hate holding the phone up to my ear. Earpieces haven’t helped any. And this isn’t just because I get lousy cell phone reception at home (although that doesn’t help any). I just really don’t like phone conversations.
This goes for voice-mail messages, by the way. Anybody who gets my voice mail will find that I make a point to say “Please leave a concise message after the tone.” This is the result of certain friends of mind leaving forty minute voice mails. Just leave something like “Mick, this is [X], call me back when you get a chance.” Despite the above, I will call you. I will just try to make it as short a conversation as possible.