Turns Out I'm Something Called an Introvert, So You Gotta Deal With It

I hate people.

In all of my years writing, I don’t know that I’ve ever opened up with a more honest statement.

Here’s a confession. I am shy. Too shy. Deathly shy. 

Me.

I know some of you are probably disagreeing with this, but bear with me as I explain. I am shy to the point of awkwardness. And I am sure my awkwardness has led many to believe I am gruff/stiff/weird/odd. And I don’t disagree with that. For me, there is no bigger dread than walking into a big room full of strangers, even if we all share a common interest. I can’t do small talk; I suck at it. “So…uh…hey…how about all that…..weather. And stuff. Crazy….sun….and barometric pressure. Um…did you see those clouds yesterday? Crazy, man.” Fucking shoot me. I feel the room closing around me, like I am the lone, shy human amongst a crowd of socially at ease zombies. And they’re going to eat my brains. And probably still be hungry.

To be honest, I’m one of those types that has more of “the feels” for animals (OK, dogs, mostly. Definitely not cats.) than for people. Just how black is my heart? Whenever I see those posters of all those missing kids, I feel nothing. Like, literally, nothing. But if I see a handwritten sign for a lost dog, I go to pieces. One time in my neighborhood, I saw a sign on a telephone pole that a little girl lost her turtle. And I actually went looking for the GD turtle! Also, protip here; don’t go calling for turtles, turns out they don’t have ears.

Good at finding Turtles.

I was shy all through school and college. I was never popular-surprise! Everyone just seemed so far ahead and ‘grown up’ and confident. Meanwhile, I was off in the corner at all the school dances, wondering why the hell I would even go to dances. I can’t dance. So let’s see; not attractive-check, can’t talk-check, can’t dance-check. So let’s just go to the dance so I can totally destroy what little self esteem I had. And these were supposed to be my good years? Doomed from the start, I tell ya.

It doesn’t help I am horrible with names. I’m pretty good with faces. Still, faces are scary because they have mouths that can open and talk and sneeze and call me by my name. What sorcery is this? I open my mouth, and gibberish comes out. Or a loud belch. Usually, it’s a loud belch. Sometimes, it smells like lunch.

I don’t know how to change it, I don’t know how to get more “social.” At times, it bothers me I am this far in life and have the social skills of a dull two year old. I should know how to have a polite conversation with a fellow human, yet this skill continues to evade me. I must have made some kind of subconscious deal to trade conversational skill for barely talented writer. They both have the same result; barely anyone hears me.

Yeah, asshole.

One of the beauty things about FB and the Net is that you can find just about any group to accept your flaws and shortcomings, give it a name, and suddenly, you’re the victim, and the world better cater to you. For example, turns out I was never deathly shy. And I’m not even an asshole! Turns out I am something called an “introvert” and there’s all kinds of memes and pointed quotes to make me feel comfortable. The world should acquiesce to my short comings and flaws. There’s actually many articles on how to deal with introverts. See, I am actually so deep and complex, I need an instruction manual! Better yet, there are lots more of these “introverts,” though we probably won’t get together to talk about it. 

The funny thing about putting any label on yourself is that it defines you. In my case, I’m an “introvert” and it’s perfectly acceptable to live inside my comfortable little box and stay here. That’s kind of what introverts do. And now this label makes it totally acceptable to stay introverted and stay inside my house and binge watch shows or read books or write blogs. I can wear whatever I want and go to bed whenever I want. Even my introvert self can recognize this behavior is socially retarded. I will always be an introvert if I stay an introvert. Nothing changes if nothing changes, and I’m OK with that.

Speaking of FB, we’ve all seen the picture of the log cabin. You’re asked if you could live in the cabin for 30 days with no wifi and no TV. And here’s where my shyness is hardcore. Every dipshit comments that they would live there, like the point is to say no. And here’s where I’m different; I could actually do it. The idea of being in the woods (actually, I’d prefer a shack on the water, choosy beggar am I) alone in a house (if it was a tent, no deal) sounds like heaven for introvert me. I would have a much better sleep pattern. I would bring every book and magazine (starting with all the unread Men’s Fitness from 2015) with me. I would bring my iPod-yes, I said iPod-that has months of music on it that I would happily listen to.

Wait. These are the neighbors!? 60. I can do 60 days. Easy.

Also, I think we’re all assuming this mythological cabin will have some creature comforts. Running hot water. Fridge. A decent bed, ooh maybe a hammock hung up in the corner! Electricity. Can I at least get Sirius? And some sort of oven or microwave? It’s not like I’m gonna be out hunting like a dirty caveman, but I’m at least going to assume there is a Wawa or something near by. Hell, there will probably be 3 Starbucks in the middle of the woods. I can snake their wifi.

No one to talk to. No one to impress or pass judgement on me. No discussions about the weather, which, by the way for the sake of this trial is assumed to be perfect. No deal if it’s not sunny and 70. I would look forward to going out into nature some days: running, walking, hiking, urinating. Maybe get up early a few mornings to see a sunrise or two. See the stars and moon with no light pollution for the big, bad city. My only real worry will be dodging the serial killers all the movies told me populate the woods.

"You getting the hockey game in that cabin?"

OK, so for shits and giggles (and wouldn’t the term shits and goggles be more appropriate? Just sayin’.) let’s just put this “introvert” label on me. Does it define me? Does it make sense? Does it explain anything? Does anybody remember laughter?

Writing is a moneyless hobby I enjoy. It can excite me, and I can stay awake half the night working out a topic I think can be funny. One of the things I enjoy most about writing is it’s all me. I do the writing, I do the editing. (This post was originally 5,000 words long.)  I choose the pictures and come up with the captions. If it’s witty, it’s because of me. If it’s enjoyable, it’s because of me. If it sucks, it’s because of me. If it’s not funny, well then quite frankly, that’s your piss poor sense of humor, ya dickwad ya. And it’s something I do totally alone. Usually with curtains drawn. So, hmmm, maybe there is a part of this “introvert” thing I should be paying attention to? OK, let’s keep going.

Another joyless hobby of mine is going to the gym. It’s my release, my escape, my therapy. I put my headphones on, then proceed to lift barely heavy things in an effort to not crush my body. The risk of benching 70 pounds is quite detrimental if my girly wrists give out and it crushes my larynx. Sometimes, my biggest challenge is to not scream like a girl when I’m benching 70 pounds. And, BTW 70 pounds is 31.7 kilos for my international readers. Still as impressive, no? But, GD, if that isn’t another thing I enjoy doing alone.

OK, so maybe some of this may fit me. As with any new theory, there are other terms to it to further apply to oneself. Here’s one I like; introvert hangover. Wow I can be sick of people, too! I’m all in now!  OK, unlike the clear fallacy that is hype like ADHD, I actually kinda believe this one. Am I not the only one, when after spending a night with a bunch of people, go to bed feeling like a semi just ran them over? And I wasn’t even drinking? I totally get that. How many of us have said, “I am so tired of people?”

People are dicks. They’re mean, fake, shallow, greedy, unappreciative, dumb. I don’t like being around people because I feel they are judging me. And being an introvert can easily lead them to. I have been an introvert long enough, that it has bred this attitude of “fuck you.” I have just gotten beyond the point of feeling the need to be liked. Face it, life is littered with fake people, just like FB is. A wise man one told me, “I yam what I yam.” And that’s how I feel about me. If you like me, cool. If you don’t like me, that’s cool, too. I’m fine either way. 

But does this make being an introvert OK? Is it OK that I stay in my little box of shyness? Shouldn’t I want to be meeting new people? Shouldn’t I be the life of every party? Shouldn’t I be more knowledgeable about world events, current topics? Shouldn’t I be able to easily discuss how earth-shatteringly cool my job is? Or the last book I read? The last freaking awesome blog I wrote? Or the last movie I saw? (Which was Jigsaw by the way, and a worthy continuation to the series. On second thought, do people really wanna know I actually think that?) The last show I binge watched?

Face it, technology has conspired to make even the most extroverted behave like us introverts. And yes, I just became the flag bearer for introverts. Ya think any of ‘em are gonna stop me? Look no further than your phone. Look at all the wonder it has brought us. I can order a pizza without talking to a soul. If I drank coffee, I can put my ostentatious order in this miracle machine without saying a word. The warehouse club can have my entire order waiting for me. Yes, I need the multi pack of KY.

Instead of talking to the few brave souls in my “tribe” I can type a few words into this magic box and voicelessly communicate with them. If I was cool, I guess I could Snap them or Insta them, but I ain’t gots that kinda time. Point being, all that technology is awesome and readily available to us on our phone. Our phone. The thing we actually used to use to talk to these people. Progress!

I think this all successfully diagnoses me as an introvert. I know I’m not a doctor, but I’ve watched enough doctor porn to at least pick up a few things. WebMD can also be a legitimate help. In fact, I’m going there now to diagnose this shooting pain and numbness in my left arm. I am sure it is nothing. It's not like I'm actually gonna go see a doctor or anything...

Why It's OK To Hate Xmas

Guys, we need to talk. Like, seriously. There seems to be this sentiment out there that we all have to love Xmas. ” It’s the most wonderful time of the year,” the song goes. Every commercial shows happy families greedily tearing open present after present. Meanwhile, there are starving kids in some Third World country wearing Atlanta Falcons Super Bowl Champions t-shirts. Yay holidays!

We spend hours and hours shopping in stores and in the few remaining malls. We waste our precious online time not on FailArmy videos, but shopping for even more shit for people we barely know. The driving, the weather, the people. And this is fun?

Literally, the first image that comes up for "I hate Xmas.'

Look, it’s time we take a stand. It’s OK to hate Xmas. In fact, I am pretty sure it’s in the Bible somewhere. Right after that story about the guy who built the boat and carefully wrangled exactly one male and female of every possible animal. So let’s break this shit down.

All The Xmas TV Movies Suck. I don’t wanna hear another one of you skirts ragging on Saw or movies starring the Rock as “being all the same.” If you can’t see the many layers of the Jigsaw character, you are stone stupid. That is just a fact, and science backs me up here. Yet it’s ok to hunker down on the couch in sweats any my hoodie, eating cookie dough and watching Lifetime and Hallmark channels all weekend. All those movies have the same damn plot. Some broad comes to some small town and saves Xmas.  Every damn time. Look, if you’re gonna watch this tripe at least do this. 

I might even watch with you. Especially if the girl in the movie is hot. Which happens quite often; just sayin’, fellas.

"This is the hand I jack off to you with."
"OK, ga-ross."

Last year, I forced myself to sit down and actually watch one of these Lifetime Xmas movies.

There Are People Who Think Die Hard Is Not a Xmas Movie. These people are to be avoided. For some, it doesn’t feel like the holiday season starts till they see Santa at the Macy’s parade. For people like me, the holidays don’t start till Hans Gruber is plummeting from Nakatomi Plaza. (SPOLIER ALERT! Oh, wait, I should have said that sooner? Screw that, the movie is like 40 years old.)

"But I still have Bed Bath & Beyond coupons! They're 20 per centtttttttt"

Your Family Always Has That One Weird Aunt or Uncle. What’s that you say? Your family doesn’t have one? Hate to break the news to you…

It's like looking in a mirror.

The Songs All Blow. How many freaking times do you need to hear GD Jingle Bells? Enough already! Just who the hell is "decking their halls?" And where do they get the boughs of holly? If Grandma wants to live by herself in the woods, she can stay there. Where’s all the GD Halloween songs?

Ugly Sweater Parties vs Halloween Parties. You decide where you'd rather be.

BYOOIINNGGGGG!!!

The Ugly Sweater Thing Is Over and Done. It used to be fun when you had to scour thrift stores for legit ugly sweaters that, at one time, someone thought passed for formal wear. Now, you can find premade ugly sweaters from your favorite team, band, movie, etc. Much like redheads, these sweaters are soulless. I blame the slacker hipsters for ruining this one.

Yea, we get it. You didn't even try.

There Is No Return on Investment. Like, literally. I’m not smart with money at all, and even I figured this out. Hate to be cold here, but Xmas lasts exactly as long as there are unopened presents. Once all the presents are opened, kiss my ass, I’m playing with all my new toys and games. It’s what Santa wants.

Think of all the time you spend running to stores to find “the perfect gift.” Think of the hours you spend  shopping on the computer when you could be doing better things, like reading this here blog. Then there’s all the wrapping. And, hey, let’s throw in a few parties we don’t want to go to. And let’s house all these cookies and bullshit. And Xmas is literally over in a flash. Presents opened. It’s the 26^th and you’re back to work because you blew what little paid time off you had in the summer on “mental health days.” Ho ho ho, dipshit.

Yes, OK, I know, Xmas is more than that. It’s the traditions. It’s the food. It’s the family and friends. But here’s my dream Xmas morning. Sleep late. Have traditional Xmas waffles. Open presents. See family for as long as I can tolerate, while trying to figure out who our weird uncle is. Return home and bask in my presents. Watch A Christmas Story a few more times.

The Santa Thing is Getting Kind of Creepy. As someone who doesn’t have children (you’re all welcome.), isn’t this everything you breeders tell your kids not to do? Let me get this straight. You take your spawn to meet an old man-a stranger- in the mall? Then you tell little Johnny or Neaveh (and enough with that name, BTW.) to sit on the strange man’s lap? Wha wha WHA? And said old man-rumored to be an actual saint in some corners-promises to lay lavish gifts on the child if they’re “good?” He sees them when they’re sleeping, he knows when they’ve been naughty or nice? Then, jolly old Santa breaks into your house? Um, excuse me a minute as I get on top of my soapbox here:

WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE????

That scenario is far scarier than anything on Halloween. Next thing you’ll tell me is there is some creepy fairy that pays them for discarded body parts.

The Hustle and Bustle Sucks. First off, at what other time of year do we use the term “bustle? ”Just what is bustle and why does it get into my hedgerow?  For 4 or 5 weeks, all these nudnicks get in my way; in the store, in the supermarket, in the liquor store, on the roads. Get out of my GD way. And where’s my jetpack? I was told we’d have jetpacks by now.

Enough With the Fake Niceness. Yes, we’re all supposed to be happy and full of the holiday spirit. But what is worse is the people who pretend to have it. They go way over the top to mask their massive unhappiness of being surrounded by assholes for a month. I feel ya there. (That’s what she said.)

Xmas Trees Support the Deforestation of the Planet. You monsters.

Merry Frickin' Xmas, jackals.

Xmas Is Just Rampant Consumerism. Sheeple! You’re only funding the multi-national corporations. Plus, I had the Kevolution Theory Bureau of Statistics tell me that 64% of Xmas gifts never get used properly. 64%! That’s like almost 65%! Yay! Let’s get more crap we don’t need!

You know what we should be doing instead? Giving to charity. Does Cousin Dupree really need a $20 novelty piece of shit you picked up last minute from the Kohls because you forgot he existed? No. Your money is far better spent-as well as karma earned-if you throw a couple of bucks to Music and Memory, who helps people like Henry.

Mistletoe. In this climate we’re living in, how is mistletoe even still a thing? What horny old man-and you KNOW it was a horny old man-came up with this? It was probably some pervy ol’ mistletoe farmer, if such an occupation ever existed. “I know, I’ll invent some custom where I hang mistletoe up. And any pretty ol' lady that wanders under it will have to get a peck on the cheek. And then I jam my tongue down her throat! Brilliant!” How are all these uppity social justice warriors not raging against stores that sell mistletoe, mistletoe balls or even the classy mistletoe belt buckle? Which I may or may not be wearing right now. Ladies? Ladies? Hello?

The Car Commercials. OK, quick impromptu poll. By a show of hands-preferably the one not holding your drink-have you ever gifted anyone with a car?

(No hands raised.)

Uh huh, uh huh. Ok, class, again by a show of hands, have you ever been given a car for Xmas?

(Still no hands raised.)

Ah hah! As I thought. The Kevolution Theory Bureau of Statistics show none of us have ever gotten a new car for Xmas. Can we please get rid of these offensively unrealistic car commercials? (In fact, this will be part of my presidential platform. #VoteForKev2020) In what Valhalla do these families exist where they buy cars for each other? And if you notice, the people still get regular presents in the house! WTF is this madness? Wouldn’t you be kinda pissed that your spouse somehow took out enough money under your nose, they could buy you a car and you never even realized the money was gone? I have a theory about these commercial couples; the one that bought the car has been having/wants to have an affair with the neighbor. The car is just a way to soothe their conscience. Try watching those commercials now, you cheating bastard.

No One Eats Candy Canes Anymore. I have another theory that there hasn’t been a new candy cane made in years. They just recycle the ones no one wanted this year for next. Kinda like the salad at your favorite restaurant.

Tastes like 2016.

Xmas Cards. Again, what a spectacular waste of resources. If you send me a Xmas card, you should just address it to Kevolution Theory Trashcan so the mailman knows where to put it. I don’t even open them. I don’t send them. I truly don’t care if you send me a card, we’re square either way. Just don’t expect a Xmas card from me. Or a birthday card. Or a Father’s Day card. Or a condolence card. I say the same things about holidays as I do when I bounce; Kev don’t card.

Speaking of cards, enough with the creepy cards of just your kids. Chances are I barely know you, so why the blue hell do I wanna see your kids? I want to see YOU. What you look like now. I want to see who you married. Yes, it’s shallow, but it’s human nature. Whenever you send a card with your kids, you are telling the world, “I am now repugnant, hopefully my kids won’t end up like me.” You have given up in life. May god have mercy on your children.

Reindeer Boob. Yea, you’d think I’d be all about the wimmen folk exposing their boobs. Plus, I’m a pretty big perv, too. (Yes, I really am wearing a mistle toe belt buckle now, and no one in this book store seems to be obliging.) But I don’t know how I feel about this one yet.

A lil' somethin' for the ladies.

So, did I miss anything?

The Not-So Great Hallmark Xmas Movie Challenge

I had been noticing a strange phenomenon on my cable recently, since before Halloween, actually. I mean aside from the fact Springsteen was right and there’s 257 channels and nothing on. How is that even possible? How can I have this many channels, and still not find anything good to watch? If it wasn’t for football, hockey, and a true handful of shows I like to watch, I would cut the damn cord. Anyway, apparently I have some channels that show nothing but Xmas movies. 24 hours a day, seven sad, sad days a week. What the effing eff? Is this why my cable bill is so high?

Why does Xmas get this much attention? Why not my beloved Halloween? There are a ton of cool, vintage horror movies out there, and more than enough since the slasher genre happened in the late 70s. Why can’t I have a couple channels of just horror movies for the month of October? They can take any of the 103 channels I never freaking watch. Is it too much to spend a few hours every fall with Vincent Price and Jigsaw?

"NO! Not the Heat Miser already!"

It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for myself. So what better way to bust out of a slump than to torture myself? That’s always funny, right. Right!?! Geez, the things I do for you guys. So, maybe it’s time I see for myself what one of these Hallmark/Lifetime Xmas movies is all about.

I will watch a Hallmark Xmas movie.

The good news is this is one less person to buy presents for.

You guys pick yourselves up from the floor yet? Yea, OK. Good

Now, I have done some cursory research-my favorite kind of half ass research, don’t cha know--and I think all these Lifetime/Hallmark movies have the same general plot. Cute, single chick meets handsome (I guess) dude with a secret why he doesn’t like Xmas. One of them might own a business. If it’s the girl, it’s a struggling business (like, duh, of course, she’s a girl!), and handsome dude’s company is threatening to put her out of business. Another hackneyed angle is the dude runs a business (usually a family business, often inherited) that is directly tied into Xmas; sells Xmas trees, a toy company, etc. His business is located in a small town where, of course, it’s the main source of employment for the town. And dude wants to shut it down because he has a penis and it’s evil. So he has to come to Christmasville or whatever, to shut it down. Said hot chick appears. She either lives in the town or works for his company. And, goddamn it, she’s just the one to save the town and admit her love for the dude 10 minutes before credits roll. Book it, done.

Often, the dude is so stone stupid, he can’t even see cute chick is falling for him. He might even-gasp!-start dating another trollop. I think there’s gotta be some shitty writing factory where they just hand out Mad Lib type outlines, and poor schmucks who can’t make any money writing their own blog have to fill out the blanks. Get a chick who used to be on One Tree Hill attached, and it’s green lit.

Naughty and nice.

OK, but I at least get to pick what dreck I am going to subject myself to. And if there’s anything that can make anything tolerable, it’s hot girls, so I get to pick. I have noticed that many of these movies star a certain tier of actor. Like not super-famous, but maybe was on a hit show a few years ago. In fact, more cursory research-my favorite kind of half ass research here-reveals there’s like a whole collection of actresses who apparently just do shitty Xmas movies now. Lacey Chabert

"Hey! Eyes up her...ah, never mind."

"My jacket conveniently hides my boner!"

does about three a year it looks like. Teri Polo, Danica McKeller, 

"I hear you like math. You + me= 15 seconds."

Candace Cameron Bure, Alicia Witt. I guess it’s smart money. Suffer through one movie, and it runs a billion times every year, and they probably get a nice royalty check.

These movies are my horror movies. After watching this, you broads better not ever bitch EVER when your guy wants to watch a horror movie. Actually, the two types of movies aren’t all that different. More often than not, a cute girl and her boobs is the main protagonist (look it up) in both horror and holiday movies. At times she will display poor judgment; i.e. run to the basement or fall for her boss. Holiday movies, though, are far more predictable. The factory will stay open, the town will be saved, Xmas will happen, the couple will fall in love. Every time. Why can’t someone make a dark Xmas movie? Maybe the factory closes, maybe the girl decides she doesn’t like the dude. Maybe that strange angel character was just a drug fueled illusion this whole time. That’s not how holiday movies work, apparently. But they should every once in a while.

And now I will subject myself to the sheer torture that has to be a Hallmark Xmas movie. There needs to be a word for dread; just a hundred times stronger. ‘Cause that’s what I’m feeling right about now. Wish me luck, and I hope to not be the shell of a person I expect to be afterwards. The movie review itself will be up on Black Friday; my gift to you.

You sadistic bastards.