Do you have Asperger's syndrome?

You don't?

So you are able to visually determine how the other person is feeling based on looking at their facial expression? 

OK, let me make this easier for you.

Can you tell when someone is sad?  Happy?  Just by looking at their face?

You can?

Oh, so it's not that, then.

OK...

Are you visually impaired?  Can you read small type?

[Sigh]

Again, let me make this easy for you.

Can you see my face clearly?

You can.  Good.

So you can see my face, and you can determine a person's emotional state based on facial expression.

Then, I have to admit, I'm completely baffled.

Baffled?  It means that I don't know what to do or say next.  I'm stumped.

Why?

Because all I want you to do is piss off.

Because I know that's written all over my face.

Because in spite of both of these things, YOU KEEP TALKING TO ME!

That's why.

Sometimes I see a situation and a really terrible thing to say pops into my head.  I occasionally even shock myself.  So, rather than say them out loud, I'm going to write them here.

Today we went to get coffee and, as we drove to our local coffee shop (they know what I drink now - it really is time for me to get a job) we stopped for ages and ages at an intersection waiting for hundreds of teenage girls to walk across the road.

When we finally got into the domain of the caffeine fix, I asked the barista what was going on.  

She told me that the Catholic school was up the road one way, the church was down the road the other way and that, every Tuesday, the girls walked over for mass.

And this thought popped into my head:

"Great.  A weekly pubescent parade for the local pedophiles."

 

Sometimes I see a situation and a really terrible thing to say pops into my head.  I occasionally even shock myself.  So, rather than say them out loud, I'm going to write them here.

Yesterday morning I went to yoga class.  I arrived ten minutes before and, as per usual, there were a few people already there, mats set up, some lying down and resting, some stretching, even one woman doing ab exercises.

And then there was the old guy.

He was up the front of the room, against the mirror, doing extreme moves.  He did downward dog with his hands against the wall, pushing himself into a higher-arsed pose. 

Then he flipped himself up into a full handstand agains the wall.

And this thought popped into my head.

I could go over to him, bend down so my mouth was near his ear, and say:

"The fact that you can do that doesn't make you any less old and wrinkled, you know."