No More Neurotica (With Bonus Random Boring Thoughts)

So I got this e-mail from my mother after she read my last post. She referred to it as "the Woody Allen one." She knew it was out of character for me advertise my neurosis, so she had to check on me and make sure I wasn't rocking myself in a corner or hatching a plan to fake my own death. She said, "Send me an answer, or I will wonder what you are thinking." I told her I didn't appreciate being referred to as Woody Allen. Not so much because he's a borderline incestuous pedophile, but because I don't suffer obnoxious whining neurotics gladly. Anyway, I'm pulling out of the obsessive-compulsive paranoia-nursing. That state doesn't suit me well. I much prefer polishing my narcissism and pitying the fools who have destructively deprived themselves of my priceless and delightful friendship. Losers.

Just a few words: befuddled, miffed, ergo, malinger, ombudsman, omnibus, clandestine, Timbuktu, buttocks, sphincter, Draconian, Machiavellian. Latest Kundera words (yes, I'm still reading a tiny book I started a month ago): catharsis, visceral, grandeur. Some troublesome old-people words: humdinger, skedaddle, tarnation. More words I don't like: poontang, prick, excrement.

Just in case you want to make me dinner sometime or if you want to emulate my gastronomic eccentricities, I love seafood in general, but here are more foods I don't like: calamari, coconut shrimp, and oysters. I have tried calamari several times, cooked different ways, and in different restaurants. It always tastes like fish-flavored rubber bands to me. As for coconut shrimp, I love shrimp, and I like coconut. But when they are put together, it yields something akin to a fish-flavored macaroon. As for oysters, slimy fish-flavored snot. It's a texture thing. Probably why I don't like sashimi, either. Aren't you glad you just wasted the past several seconds of your life reading this paragraph? Sorry.

By-the-way, sometimes I wonder if my readers think I overuse hyphens. If you do think so, that-is-your-problem and you need to get-a-life. I find them handy and decorative. The confetti-of-punctuation. {The improper use here is for effect. Sort of like performance art.} I like self-referential things. I had a rock carved with these words: "Nothing is carved in stone." What clever irony, huh? Maybe I'll post a picture of it here. I need to get a life, don't I? Still shopping for one that fits. Of course, I don't like to pay retail, so whatever I get will be an irregular or second-hand. How appropriate.

I meant to get to some of my airport people-watching stories, but they'll just have to wait for next time. I'm too tired after dealing with one sick kid after the other for the past two weeks. Here's one quick airport observation for you. When I see a cute baby, I usually smile at the parents as if to say, "What a cute baby you have there." (Cute, happy babies always make me smile--both because I remember when mine were that little & cuddly and because I am so glad it's not me weighed down with all that baby-paraphernalia. -- Let's add paraphernalia.-- So I think there's a Schadenfreude element there, too.) When I see an ugly baby, I have to look away, because I can't pretend that someone has a cute baby when they don't. Does anyone else do this? I think I show too much on my face. That's why I suck at poker and could never pull off a surprise party.