OK, I’m Not That Weird

A fellow around here bought a million dollar house without ever being inside. The buyer and the seller never clapped eyes on each other until the signing. The seller told me that when he came in to the notary to sign, he had no idea which of the guys there was the buyer and which the notary.

The house wasn’t for sale and wasn’t advertised on Zillow, so the buyer never saw any pictures. He just wanted it and kept sending offers until the owner agreed.

I’m Probably Weird

Other women stare at photos of handbags and shoes they dream about, and I have spent years coveting cassoulet gift boxes. If I had to choose between this and any outfit or accessory on the planet, the choice would be very clear.

People try so hard to find nice gifts for me when the best gift has always been located in the charcuterie department.

Unpopular Kids

This “best tweet ever” is why I detest Twitter. It reminds me of those really unpopular, sad, nerdy kids in high school who were desperate to ingratiate themselves with the popular crowd. They’d act like clowns, crack dumb jokes, make outlandish compliments and look with forlorn, hopeful eyes at the popular kids, hoping to get noticed and approved.

I was the most unpopular kid known to humanity but I wouldn’t stoop to being servile to the class’s aristocracy. And it always felt like a huge betrayal when my brother and sister rejects simpered and begged for approval.

It’s only now that I finally figured out why political Twitter makes my blood boil. I still feel vicarious shame for people who are so desperate for approval.