Orphans and Nutjobs First!

“Hey man, sweet hat. Is that a blahblahblah fedora?”

“Wha?,” waking out of my stupor, “I don’t know.”

Getting indignant, “I asked if that’s [still indeterminable] fedora?” I didn’t have the heart nor the guts to let on that I still couldn’t understand her. “Where’d you get it?”

A little bit of advice ma’am: when asking for a favor, in this case a question, it helps to be polite. Not all of us are so amped up on amphetamines at eleven in the morning to be threatening everyone around us with their strangely hostile inquiries. Also, try not to be stinking up the entire record store.

So this is what happens to gutter punks when they grow up. The faces become (more) haggard, but the clothes stay dirty and smelly.

You show the man! Fight the power (of soap)!

With her approaching fast, I was now boxed in between the CD racks. Never before had Joni Mitchell and the Tom Tom Club seemed so menacing. Apparently tiring of my hat in-expertise, she’s come to uncover the answers herself.

I swear at God, if I end up prostrate on the floor with a black-bristled toothbrush sticking out my anus, I’m going to stop shopping here. Here I am relieving them of their unwanted No Limit compilations, and paying them for the privilege! Couldn’t the cashier at least protect his regular patrons?

“Can I see the hat?,” she asks, now becoming the good cop. “I just want to, you know, check it out. I haven’t seen one like this in awhile. Nothing weird alright? I just want to check the hat out. Totally normal.”

I’m no expert on conversation. If you’re looking for socializing advice there’s literally a million other blogs out there that’ll be able to help you more. Many of them feature oh-so humorous photos of buxom women holding pictures of baseballs that look like scrotums! The insanity! Those sites will be of more use.

All I know is roller derby and ways to piss off your boss yet inexplicably stay employed. Those are the skills I bring to the table. And I’m still on the fence about my supposed derby knowledge.

What I do know about conversation though, and this ties in directly with my earlier advice, is when asking (for another, further) favor from a by all appearances uncomfortable subject, for God’s sake, don’t ever tell them you’re “normal.” If you have to tell someone you’re normal, then you’re not. Same as the “don’t worry” preface, they’re both self-defeating. If you have to say it, then you shouldn’t, ‘cuz no one is going to believe you anyway.

The hat’s okay, although my asshole’s still sore.

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