I'm A Bad Person

I feel like I have almost covered everything that bothers me in the world. I am at a point where I will get an idea to sit down and write a comical story on, and I will realize that it loosely relates to something I have written prior. Which sucks, and is also pathetic. After two years of dick and fart jokes that got panned out into sentences and paragraphs, I have come up short. I sat down just now and wrote three paragraphs on farts. No shit. (Pun halfway intended.) But I sat down and began by talking about how if you can't fart in front of your significant other, there is no way you are prepared to marry this person. And that lead me to talk about things like shitting with the door open, and walking around naked sort of stuff. Stuff that is really only funny in context, or in person. But that didn't stop me from paraphrasing! ZING.
I have been thinking a lot about the subject of picking up women. I am trying to keep this a little more candid and playful than cynical. But, whatever. I think moving from the place I have always been to somewhere where there are people everywhere, has made me realize that I am awful in social situations. To rightfully express this statement, I am going to provide examples of such.
I was DD'ing for my friends. (salute me if I've told you this story) We were at this terrible bar in downtown SLC, and I was sitting at the bar watching Sportscenter. They had highlights of March Madness going on, and I was pretending to be enthralled so I didn't have to talk to anyone. (yeah, I know) I was pulling on my Coke Zero when some woman comes up and places herself on the bar stool next to me. This bar was loud as hell, and to talk to anyone you had to lean in in order to ensure that their words didn't get mixed into the deafening music or the sound of girls laughing way too loud. So, she asked what I was watching. (Granted, all the TV's were on Sportscenter, so this was a very simple person question to be asking.) I replied "basketball" She laughed and went on to say that she didn't know anything about basketball, and all the while I couldn't stop staring at her driving gloves that she was wearing. Leather gloves. Inside. I think she was wearing a wolverine shirt too, which can be good. But can be bad. Idk. I was gonna check to see if she was wearing a false tail, but I forgot. She just seemed like the kind of person that would be wearing one of those. Idk why I got that feeling, but I did. Anyway She starts yacking about how she loves wrestling. And of course, I tune back into this conversation that has been going on for idk how long. She says "Not like college wrestling. But like professional wrestling. Like The Hardy Brothers, and Vader and all those guys! Gah I wish they still wrestled."
First of all, I admire the fact that she picked the most obscure sport (Besides maybe hockey or golf) (But I know quite a bit about hockey too so w/e) to yack to boys about. Because 19 times out of 20 normal middle aged men don't watch wrestling. Second, if you're going to lie about watching wrestling, you should at least get your facts straight.
I looked at her and said "Jeff Hardy still wrestles in TNA." I then turned back to sportscenter taking a victory gulp of my coke. She replied "Oh..." Then turned and disappeared. Her fake tail dangling, defeated behind her.
Now here is my issue with this story. Did I have to be a dick? Nah. Did I want to talk to a person about wrestling who clearly doesn't watch wrestling? Nah. Could I have brought up a different subject to get to know this person, rather than just being annoyed with her fake wrestling story? Probably. But Nah.
I was at seven eleven yesterday and I was wearing the exact same outfit as my buddy who I live with. That's not really important, but it's part of the story so why leave it out? So I was murdering my nachos in chili and cheese and pouring coke down my fat throat like it was going out of business. And as I turned back to throw some things in the trash, there was a person standing in front of the garbage can. She was a lot shorter than me. She was wearing this strange pink halter top, and cut off shorts. She had tattoos on the back of her hands, and also in other places I noticed, but tried not to notice, that were fading. Which lead me to believe that they were done in prison. She had a lot of ear piercings as well. She was staring at me. Which I have actually become accustomed to, mainly because I am a lot larger than people, and I have been officially growing my beard for over 7 months. So It was like; whatever. She then asked "Have you tried this yet?" And I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Then I noticed that 7-11 had tapped a new flavor of Mtn. Dew, I don't know what it is, but it's orange colored. I think it has something to do with tropical punch. I said "Oh, the new Mtn, Dew? I haven't, is it good?" She then fully extends her arm, pushing the straw extending from her beverage into my big dumb face, wanting me to take a couple of slugs out of her drink. I wasn't sure what to do because the only person who has ever offered me to drink out of their drink is nobody. So I said "nope." Then turned and walked away.
Did I have to be impolite? Nah. Did I panic? Yes. Do I want Mono and or Hep C by sharing straws with this person that has homemade tattoos and scares me? Kinda.
I just think that with the invention of social media has mortally effed relationships. You have to text a girl every three days or whatever. And Snapchap and all this stuff. And if she likes your shit on Facebook or Instagram and whatever else the hell there is. It's all such a mind rape. Why can't you walk up to someone and show them your Tamagatchi and ask for their house phone number anymore? I feel like I would much rather take the risk of calling someones house and talking to their parents, rather than the feeling of texting someone twice in a row. Or having them not reply to your text but is tweeting or whatever. If I could change one thing, It would be that everyone could be more straightforward with each other and say that you think they're pretty. And you would like to be seen with them. So you should go mini golfing and then throw rocks at trains later. Idk. Granted, I haven't talked to one stranger that I think is nice to look at since... ever. So I should practice what I preach. But hell, I'll make it a goal. I won't report back or anything. Cause I don't owe you anything.

Also, like this or give me a shout if you think I should stop being a lazy ass and finish the book I started, and you would read it. All of it. And then leave a comment on this blog stating your favorite item at Chuck A Rama if you think I should post the first chapter.

I'm listening to Taylor Swift. Idk why I told you that. But I just thought you should know.