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2:32 p.m. - 2001-10-31
I, myself, personally am not irritated by redundancy. In other words...
Here's a question. Why is it that a man who has been scraping the ever-growing whiskers off his face with a metal blade affixed to a handle for, oh, twelve years now, still can manage to miss the same little patch every time?

And why is it that when he trims his little "soul patch" area, he seems to favor the life of one particular red hair, and let it grow to ridiculous lengths without noticing it's survival for weeks and weeks? (by the way Mom, the soul patch area is NOT that. Jeez!)

I think it's a funny, funny joke that my body plays on me. I think that my hormones have chosen random whiskers to grow at thrice the pace of the rest, just to screw with me. I'm not mad, in fact I'm sure that if I was in charge of the hair growth patterns of a little dweeb not unlike myself, I'd try to drive him nuts too.

I'm a very nice boy. I'm also the oldest of five siblings, so I'm a complete shit head too. Nothing cures boredom better than irritating the bejesus out of somebody in my book.

Think up a ridiculous name for them. Speak in a fashion that you have discovered on previous occasions, has driven them to vexation. Poke 'em. Tell them a story that is so on the fence of believability, that they exert tremendous brain power trying to "feel you out" for bullshit clues. Repeat the spirit of their point to them using wildly exaggerated examples and the voice of a Muppet. Plot a long, drawn out scheme to deliver water to them in an attempt to curb their "dryness".

Even now I'm smiling.

Words seem very important to people. Racial slurs, for example, have a power to bring up painful history when used in specific contexts by specific people. I don't like using hurtful words in vain. Not because I am particularly sensitive to them myself, but because I don't feel that I would ever have a need to do so that could outweigh the pain they might cause someone else.

If I find out that words irritate you though, whoo boy!

My old foreman hates it when you say "tuna fish".

"As opposed to tuna cow?" he was fond of saying. The only fondness that eclipsed his use of this response, was my own for trying to drive him to it.

My mother hates "irregardless".

"It's redundant!" she'll shout, waving her tiny fists in the air and gritting her teeth into the "angry mom under-bite" that was a warning to run away with your hands over your ass in my youth.

To her list we can add "at this point in time" ("what the hell else could it be? This point on the map?!?")

And my sister. Poor, poor girl. I know her so well that I can irritate her by the mere suggestion of speech. She has become so exposed to my twisted little head that on her own she will think of things that I might say, and drive herself to fits. (I suspect she really just enjoys every opportunity to sock me.)

All of this has caused a little bit of a problem for me though. I have been known to walk around speaking like an idiot just out of habit.

"I, myself, personally am finna make myself a tuna fish casserole with pasta noodles irregardless to the fact. The pasta noodles that I'm finna use pacifically, are the ones that you boil up first, and chop 'em all up with your tuna fish. They taste good like that. A good tuna fish casserole ain't never done nothin' to nobody. Puddin'. Pookin Pantyhose. Matty-poo wagon. Stink-regard. Pig-nog."

While that statement may just seem like a bunch of poorly constructed multi-negatives, redundancies, and random words used incorrectly, there are people all over the continent who are balling their fists up in anger thanks to them.

Ah, yes. The internet. My life is ever so much more efficient now!

Thanks Al Gore!

P.S. Go get a glimpse into the mind of Octobergirl. I'd live in her imagination if I could. It's her birfday today but she's done been gifted.


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