It's all about perception; therefore, I choose to take "blunt" as a COMPLIMENT.

My brain is not wired the same as other people’s brains.

Yes, yes, I know, we’re all special snowflakes and such, and we’re all different, lovely, special, and unique flowers, raising our petals to the sun of our own landscapes, blah blah, whatever.  I know that.

I like statistics.  Statistics where you see that a certain percentage of people like one thing over another, or would react in one way and not another way. I like to look at them and see what side I’d fall on. I took a statistics class in college, and I don’t remember a lot of it? Because I took it over the summer to get it out of the way, and I remember I napped in the back of the room through a lot of it? But I got to make pretty pie charts and graphs and interview people for their opinions and turn them into statistics, and that was awesome, and I’m pretty sure I passed it. Problem is, a lot of the time, I kind of completely overlook the question the statistic is covering for something that it’s not even measuring. Because I have a weird brain.

For example:

Statistic: 50% of people killed by bombs are those trying to make or set the bombs.

My thoughts: So, 50% of bomb makers are very bad at it. Good to know.

Statistic: Over 50% of people who win the lottery jackpot return to work.

My thoughts: 50% of people are jackasses.

 Statistic: 90% of people believe in divine retribution.

My thoughts: Ha! And 10% of people couldn’t answer because their asses were SMOTE.(Is “smote” a word? Because “smitten” sounds like they have a crush. If “smote” isn’t a word I’m declaring it one right now. DO YOU HEAR ME MERRIAM-WEBSTER?)

Statistic: 10% of people believe in the 10 Commandments.

My thoughts: “Believe in” – like that they exist? Or “believe in” like they should be followed? TOO VAGUE, statistic. TOO VAGUE.

Statistic: 29% of people are virgins when they marry.

My thoughts: 29% of people are lying.

Statistic: 69% of people eat the cake before the frosting.

My thoughts: Cake + frosting all in one bite = perfection. Cake and frosting separately = lonely. Why do you want your dessert items to be lonely?

Statistic: 85% of people will eat Spam this year.

My thoughts: This seriously limits the number of people I’m willing to have sex with.

Statistic: 45% of people consistently follow the speed limit.

My thoughts: This number has GOT to be higher because about 98% of the time I’m stuck behind one of these slow-moving asshats.

Also – and I know I’ve mentioned this before – I’ll relate a conversation I’ve had with another person, and they’ll just look at me in horror about the way I handled myself in the conversation. I get a lot of “you can’t SAY that,” or, the other day, “I don’t know if I’ve ever met anyone as blunt as you.” Here’s the thing – I’m not trying to be shocking. When these things come out of my mouth, I’m having what in MY head is a normal human interaction, minus the bullshit that annoys me when people open their mouths. But I’m pretty sure I’m the gorilla and you all are Jane Goodall because I AM A TOTAL AND COMPLETE HEATHEN.

Sample conversations:

A work-related conversation illustrating that my sarcasm isn’t understood in

the workplace:

Coworker:  So I’m going to need this done as soon as possible.

Me:  It’s ten to five.

Coworker:  Yes.

Me:  So “as soon as possible” is tomorrow morning.

Coworker:  You can’t stay late and do it?

Me:  No.

Coworker:  Really?

Me:  Did you put in a requisition form?

Coworker:  There’s a form?

Me:  Yes. You have to fill it out requesting I stay late at least two weeks in advance, photocopy it, distribute it to the executive committee, and wait for approval.

Coworker:  I didn’t hear about that. Is that a new rule?

Me:  Very new. I just made it up right now. I have to start cleaning up to go so I’ll get this to you tomorrow, then.

Coworker:  I really can’t get this tonight?

Me:  Well, you might have been able to if you hadn’t wasted my time talking about a form that doesn’t even exist for the last five minutes, but now you’re too late. You really have to be more careful with your time. I think they’re giving a time management seminar at the Marriott next month or something, maybe look into that.

A conversation I had, months later, with a guy I had a crush on for like five minutes until his toolbaggery was revealed:

Toolbag:  Amy! What’s up! I haven’t seen you in so long!

Me:  Yes.

Toolbag:  What’s been going on?

Me:  Lots of things. It’s been months since I’ve seen you. Many sleeps. Many wakes. Much eating of foodstuffs. You know.

Toolbag:  I never hear from you anymore!

Me:  Well, once I send someone email and they don’t respond, I stop. As I am able to process things like "hints" using my superior reasoning skills.

Toolbag:  Ha ha! You’re still so funny.

Me:  Were you under the impression that time and/or distance would have changed that fact?

Toolbag:  We should have brunch sometime!

Me:  I can’t imagine any world where that would be a good idea at all. Also, “brunch”? Wow. Aren’t we a fancy-man. Maybe there could be sliced meats and chilled salads and finger-bowls. That’d be all kinds of swell. Pip-pip and all that rot. Bugger.

Toolbag:  Ha ha! So funny. It was so good to see you! (goes in for a hug)

Me:  It looks like you’re attempting to touch me; I’m going to stop you right there and leave now.

A conversation a friend and I had about a totally confusing situation:

Me:  So this guy asked me out.

Friend:  A date!

Me:  I don’t know what he wants from me.

Friend:  How old is he?

Me:  Why would I know that? Maybe 30.

Friend:  Did you ever think he might be interested?

Me:  In what? That’s what I’m saying, he wants something. BUT WHAT.

Friend:  No, I mean in YOU. Interested in YOU.

Me:  Oh. Did I grow a penis overnight and no one told me?

Friend:  WHAT?

Me:  He’s gay. It’s not that kind of date.

Friend:  Normal people don’t respond to questions like you do.

Me:  Do you think he wants money? I don’t have any. Should I call him and preemptively tell him I don’t have any money?

A conversation I had with a theater person about a cast party:

Actor:  See you tonight!

Me:  Why? Are you going to be at my house? That’s a strange place for you to be.

Actor:  No. At the cast party, I mean!

Me:  Oh. Is that tonight? I don’t do that.

Actor:  What do you mean?

Me:  I don’t do cast parties.

Actor:  Aw! Whyyyyy?

Me:  Whining’s totally going to win me over, by the way. I hate people? So parties are kind of out. Also, social anxiety. And exhaustion. And did I mention the hatred? Of people? Especially drunk people?

Actor:  But we’ll have so much funnnnn!

Me:  Would you use that voice at the party? Because that WOULD be fun. No.

Actor:  EVERYONE’S going to be there!

Me:  Minus me, yes, you’re right, they will.

Actor:  Aw, I WISH you’d RECONSIDER!

Me:  No. No, you really don’t. You feel like you have to say that, because that’s what people feel like they have to say in situations like this. But just trust me on this: it’s better for everyone involved if I don’t. I don’t feel like I’m being left out. I feel like I dodged a bullet. So have a great time, if you drink, don’t drive, and remember that there are a lot of STD’s running rampant all up in here so try to use a condom or something if you decide to be a typical theater person and hook up with everyone with a mouth.

And a special bonus conversation to show you I’m capable of a somewhat normal conversation, given the correct sparring partner:

A conversation about a dream I had because everyone likes to hear about your dreams, EVERYONE:

Me:  So last night I had a dream about that guy I used to be in love with, with the glasses?

Friend:  Why?

Me:  I don’t know. It’s not like I can dictate my dreams. That seems like a stupid question.

Friend:  Weren’t you in love with him like 10 years ago?

Me:  Yes. I AM NOT IN CHARGE OF WHO I DREAM ABOUT.

Friend:  Sorry. Carry on.

Me:  And he asked me to meet him at B.J.’s, so I did.

Friend:  Why?

Me:  You really ask a lot of questions when I’m telling a totally engrossing story.

Friend:  Sorry. OK. Yes. B.J.’s. Wait, you never go to B.J.’s. Do you even have a membership? You can’t just go there, you know. It’s like an exclusive club.

Me:  YOU ARE NOT BEING A GOOD FRIEND RIGHT NOW.

Friend:  I mean, if you try to walk in without a card, I think they’d call security. I’m looking out for your well-being.

Me:  I’m going to pretend you aren’t interrupting and continue.  When we were there, he called his dad and said “Hey Dad! Amy’s here so I have a ride for once, so I’m going to stock up on stuff that I usually can’t buy because it’s hard to get bulk items on your bicycle, so first I’m going to get a whole mess of cheese.”

Friend:  What?

Me:  I KNOW.

Friend:  I like that he was getting all the cheese. He’s like your dream guy.

Me:  But he was using me for a ride, and also why was he calling his dad? DUMP.

Friend:  Well, technically, you weren’t together, so you can’t dump.

Me:  It’s my dream and I’ll dump if I want to.

Friend:  Fair enough.

Me:  Also I’m keeping the cheese.

Friend:  You’d be a fool not to do so.

See, here’s the thing. Things that bother me in a conversation: not enough sarcasm and way too much nonsensical “how’s the weather sparkly unicorn joy and light giggle giggle puke!” bullshit. I am very good at the first and never received the rule packet for the second. I can’t do small talk; the weather? Hot. My drive here? Annoying. Let’s get down to brass tacks, Chumley, so I can get home and watch Supernatural and text my friends, ok? Time’s a’wastin’. 

There are certain people who get the sarcasm and the no-bullshit and can give it back. These people? They are my Anne-of-Green-Gables kindred spirits. They don’t get offended if I’m totally flippant about something because they understand I DON’T MEAN IT. They know that deep down, my soul’s not really a dead furnace cinder. They are the kind of people that I get me. Yes, please, more, thank you.

Is this going to get me ahead in life? Oh, HELL no. It's actually very much to my detriment. The people who make it in this world, unfortunately, are usually the people who can paste on a shit-eating grin and chat about inanities. I DON'T KNOW HOW. I've tried! But I get bored. And I wander off. No, seriously, I wander away. I get a lot of "I was talking to you and you weren't there anymore!" Yep. Wandered on off.

So the next time you want sparkly kitten fluffy foolish nonsense, I guess I would not be the person to come to, really. Sorry. IT IS A HANDICAP. I think I probably should request a sticker for special parking or something. WHAT DO YOU MEAN THAT'S NOT HOW THOSE WORK. Fine. Odds are in favor of you being a Spam-eater anyway, so you're not even INVITED to the rodeo. So bite me. I'm going to wander off now.