If only there was a way to combine the two!

(Please note that this post was composed on May 16, 2004)

When you go to Rob and Lynn's house, there are two things you can expect: dogs and marijuana. Both of them were there in spades when I visited last night. 'Twas cool though; I love dogs and I don't mind marijuana, so a good time was had, I can say. I got to visit my delirious Mr. Show fandom on people other than my mother for a change; to the tune of seven episodes in a row. I still can't believe I got away with it, either. At the end of the fifth one Rob said, "All right, who's had enough of Bob and David?" But through the use of some divine mystical force that I cannot yet name or even understand, I managed to squeeze in two more episodes before I went to the bathroom and they hijacked the remote. Whatever the hell they put on next is lost in a gigantic haze; I just remember there were lots of cars crashing, a gratuitous lingerie shot, and a fat asshole pretending to be a badass. Oh yeah, Swordfish. Anyways, I think they liked Mr. Show until I overkilled it. But yes, the revolution is coming. Soon, the nation will be just as zealous as me. The Bob will rule all!

"Only British people can fly! You shouldn't try to fly, and you shouldn't listen to British people." - Our Excitable Friend from Across the Ocean, Ernie!

Dane and his girlfriend were there as well. That day was actually the first time that I met her. Now, before I continue on this topic I just need to point something out. Ever since my male friends went through puberty (I'm still waiting, apparently) they have attracted members of the female species. I say they have 'attracted' because I don't think any of my male friends have had to do more than a token gesture to get into a relationship, because the girl was already smitten with them. That's not the point I'm trying to make, but it's interesting to note nonetheless. Anyways, they would get girlfriends and I would eventually have to meet them at one point or another. There has been a startling consistency in their response to me to this point in my life, and I guess the nicest way to dress this up would be to call it toleration. Disdain would probably be a more accurate word, though. There are exceptions to this rule, of course, including if I knew the girl before they started going out or my friend and I first meet the girl at the same time. If I meet her for the first time after they've started going out however, it all goes to crap.

Now, after having established this disturbing precedent, can you imagine the meeting that took place going any better? No, I dare say it did not. In the first five seconds, which people say are the most important in first impressions, I could hear any hope of social chemistry between us splutter and die like a bloated muskrat. Which is a shame, because Fermita (dammit, I mean Femira, I think, sp?) seems like a genuinely nice person, despite that whole "If I could immolate you with my mind, I would" vibe going on. And hell, Dane likes her, and he's always demonstrated good taste.

Of course, one could construe through what I've written that it's entirely the girl's fault for this sad, sad game. After all, I'm an affable, charming enough lad; how could anyone dislike me? Heh, fuck that. If anything, it's my own fault entirely for this state of affairs. People who've known me for a long time know that I'm a rather shy person. However, I am not one of those affably shy people. You know, people who don't say that much but are still approachable. I am a MISERABLY shy person. It's the kind that often gets confused with being a snob. I have to admit it, when I'm in my shell I just don't look like that friendly of a guy. I've stepped away from this sort of thing as I've gotten older, but there's still this one instance that sends me into a relapse every time. And, if you can't get what it is, you obviously haven't been paying attention. You see, it all started back when I was 14 and it seemed like all of my friends were hooking up. Not me, of course. I started resenting them for seeming to leaving me behind. And when it was coupled with own frustration in being (in my own mind) disdained by girls, it grew into something even more bitter and poisonous. It seemed wrong to direct this odd mix of meat, gristle, self-loathing and hatred at my own pals, so I chose the next target in line: their girlfriends. I've never been able to hide my negative feelings (positive ones, I with no problem hiding) so the reaction they have to me was probably influenced by my own demeanour. Hence, my own fault. It's weird that I've never managed to shake it off. Whenever I meet a friend's bird, my mind regresses back to its state of when I was 14 years old. The aforementioned meat and gristle blah blahbity blah. Now, this isn't to say that I automatically despise them right off the bat. No no no. Just the sensations I had back then start up again. See, isn't armchair psychology fun?

But perhaps this is all for the best. In the one case where I started to get along with one of my friend's girlfriend, they broke up like one week later. So, if you start going out with a pal of mine, whatever you do, don't start being nice to me because your relationship will go down the toilet soon after. But in the meantime, just remember you're insulting my buddy's impeccable taste if you start questioning why I'm hanging around.