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I'm Not Anti-Social

So apparently I'm anti-social, according to friends. Personally, I don't think I'm anti-social. It's not like every time a stranger comes to my door I freak out. Shutter all the windows, jettison the cat out in an escape pod. Lock myself away in my panic room, curl up in the fettle position, and cry for an hour and a half while listening to the soundtrack to Evita. No, I don't do that, not at all. Seriously, I'm not anti-social. Saying that I'm anti-social would make it sound as if a simple task like going to the grocery store would fill me with dread and horror.

I mean, sure, when I do go grocery shopping I get a little overwhelmed by the people, and the fact that there's a giant glowing orb in the sky. Perhaps it's also true that when I reach the frozen foods, I have to face dive into bags of frozen peas just to compensate with all that is going on. By time I've reached the check out, I'm breathing into a paper bag and demanding that no one look at me. Sure, I do all that, but who doesn't!? I'm not anti-social.

I leave the house, I go do things. I enjoy going out on dates. I've had many a fine night out with a lovely lass. I might insist that she sit at another table across the room, and only talk to me via Skype. I might also wear a hazmat suit, and insist she coat herself in Purell, as we all know human beings are filthy germ vessels. But that's just being cautious. I'm not anti-social.

I throw parties for Pete's sake! I love having people over. Would an anti-social person Martha Stewart up the place? I think not! Let me tell you what it's like when I have people over. First I send the invites out over Facebook, we all known paper can't be trusted. I make a panic inducing trip to the grocery, and then I come home and start prepping food for my guests. Once that is done, I go and scrub myself in the shower with a brick, and a bar of Lava.

My guests all arrive in the same manner, and enter my home through my short hall. Thankfully, my hall doubles as an ionic purification chamber, everyone just thinks those blue tubes in the ceiling are black-lights. After that, everyone meets me in the living room, where we drink the Kool Aid. Dinner is next, followed by smashing the plates in the fireplace. I just don't trust that my dishwasher will actually get things “clean”.

After dinner we all head outside, where I had the ground replaced with hand washable Astroturf. We play games, Twister, dance to a few records, and mostly try not to make actual human contact with one another. We have a great time, and everyone leaves a little less germy than they arrived. I then hose down my entire home with Clorox, and call it a night. See, I'm not anti-social. I'm not. Seriously.

I have no idea where people get the idea that I am this anti-social hermit who is horrified by the very thought of walking around on the Earth. I'm sure after I've laid it all out here, you too agree with me that I am not anti-social. Now if you'll pardon me, I'm going to go get my flashlight and see if I can see where the cat's escape pod landed.


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