I don't really fit in anywhere.
I'm too weird to be one of the nice people, but I'm too uptight to be one of the funky people.
The problem is that when I try to hang with the normal people, my inner Tuna Girl always sneaks out to play.
"Your thingy won't fit in my hole!" --yelled across the house to my husband after I accidentally tried to plug my phone into his charger.
"It's good to drain it sometimes." --suggested to Patrick after he innocently mentioned that he had let his iPod battery drain.
And I always have to chuckle like some demented Beavis after I say these things.
But the topper is this:
Yesterday at the gym, I took notice of the guy lifting behind me because he looked just like him. I was getting ready to do my overhead presses when I sort of dropped my hands to the sides and cupped them upwards as I reached for the grips.
At the same time, Tin Man's clone happened to walk by me. And got felt up.
"Oh!" I exclaimed. "Sorry!"
Now, I could have left it at that. Most people would, right?
As he scuttled away, I had to yell after him, "I bet you didn't come to the gym for a free grope, huh?"
Oh, god, I'm such a dork. I'm not fit for human company of any variety.
Hence the blog.