Did you ever wonder if yellow traffic lights are in cahoots with red traffic lights?
Yellow: Oh OH! Here comes Lee. Get ready Red …. NOW!
Red: BAM! Got you sucker! LMIAO! (Laughing My Incandescent Ass Off)
Green: You guys are a couple of jizz waffles.
While I was driving to get lunch I heard 99 Red Balloons and Take on Me on the radio. I think I accidently activated the flux capacitor and went back to 1986. Hey, 1986 me, don’t date the chick that carved your name in her leg with a razor blade. Sure, it starts off fun but dude you already know she carries a razor blade. I actually did go back and warn myself, and by this I mean I was too chicken shit to talk to a girl like that. Which probably worked out for the best. Because, you know, razor blade.
Someone asked me if this girl really existed. Yea she did. But now that I think about it she really wasn’t that bad ass for carving my name in her leg. My name is Lee. Only three letters. Now if my name had been Bartholomew that would have been different. She probably would have just shortened it to Bart though. Only one more letter of bad assness. OK, how about if I was named Agamemnon? Don’t think that’s getting shortened. I mean can you picture Achilles saying, “Hey Aggie, you are a sucky king but I will sack Troy for you anyway. That work for you Aggie?” Nah, she would have to put the whole thing on her leg. Still wouldn’t have talked to her though. But if my name was Agamemnon I probably would have had far worse issues to deal with than being shy.
So I am what you might call OCD/C. The second C standing for Casual, in that I sometimes have OCD tendencies but I don’t go full bore Sheldon Cooper. In order to not go all Sheldor I’ve made an agreement with myself that I can do one dumb/useless/repetitive weird thing a day. Like open and close the door twice, or touch a spot on the wall, or flip the light switch on and off more than once. But once I’ve done that I’m in the clear until after midnight. However, even with that agreement there are what I call standing OCD activities that have evolved over the years to take priority over the agreement, and must be done whenever the situation calls for it. Those I’ve listed below:
– My pillows on the bed MUST be turned so that the openings in the pillow cases face the middle of the bed. Why? Not sure. Maybe I am worried that I’ll squeeze too hard in the middle of the night and my pillow will squirt out on the floor. Guess if it squirts out into the middle of the bed I can just grab it without having to get up. This actually may just be laziness and not OCD at all.
– My bathroom has a stand up shower with a glass door. Said door, of course, fogs up when I’m taking a shower. I MUST draw an X with a box around it whenever that happens. You know like on Family Feud when you get an answer wrong and get a strike? Again, no idea why but I get it in my head that my day will not go well if I don’t do it. Sometimes if I think I need some extra mojo for the upcoming day I will just draw the X without the box. Not sure how the deletion of the box translates to a better day. Just how my mind works. For the record, I’ve had some pretty shitty days, box or no box. “We surveyed 100 people and asked them the following question. Who is really weird?” If you answer Lee then you’ll see no X, no box, because it’s the number one answer.
– So I was in China once and while on a tour I saw a cute monkey in a cage. So being the moron tourist that I was I stuck my finger in the cage to give the monkey a scratch behind the ears. Who wouldn’t enjoy that? I’ll tell you who, this Monkey! He bit the shit out of my finger! Actually not the shit because it was blood that came out. That’s when I realized something. Monkeys are mean! Over the years I’ve told this story so many times to people talking about monkeys that I now have to say it out loud whenever someone says the word monkey or I see a monkey on TV. Remember Monchichi’s? Probably not if you are under 40. Monchichi, Monchichi, oh so soft and cuddly. Yeaharight, I bet those fuckers are just as mean!
– When I read a book for the first time, I have to reread the first sentence to break across the page over and over again until I feel like I have read it correctly with no distractions. Sometimes I read that line like 20 times until I get it right. The rest of the book? No problemo. I could just read every third word and it wouldn’t bother me at all. No rhyme or reason for this shit that comes from my head.
– When we go out to breakfast, or any other meal where my wife orders coffee (I don’t like it, get my caffeine from Mt. Dew) they have these little plastic containers of half and half. I like to flick the top of them with my finger so that they turn summersaults. I must execute one full flip or I can’t leave the restaurant. It’s like a mini version of flip cup, only without the alcohol, and falling down, and up chucking.
– You know the little basket in the dishwasher for putting in your dirty utensils? They have separate compartments and I can’t put just one utensil in a compartment by itself. Why? Believe it or not because I feel like it would be lonely unless it had at least one other partner in there with it. You can’t make this shit up. On the upside, we have forks, spoons, knives, and other assorted implements all living taking a hot bath in perfect harmony. Maybe we could all learn a lesson from the cutlery.
– Whenever I face a set of salt and pepper shakers, whether they are on the table or stored on a shelf, the salt must be to the left. Because we read left to right and it is SALT and PEPPER. I mean you never heard of the song Push It by PEPPA and SALT did you? No, because even they know it’s SALT and PEPPA. My wife likes to fuck with my OCD/C by setting out the shakers in the WRONG order. Actually I usually set the table so as to not have the fingernails run down the chalkboard that is my mind. Hmm, I think I see what she’s doing there. BTW, there were three people in SALT and PEPPA. So who was SALT, who was PEPPA, and who was the unnamed spice? Wait, spices go with the SPICE GIRLS and this is going off the rails so I must end it here before I start questioning the logic behind the three people in the THOMPSON TWINS.
Did I say casual? After reading back over this I think I need to change that C to Cooper. I’ll now go sit on my favorite spot on the couch and watch a show about monkeys, which are mean by the way.
OK, are we live? I kind of feel like Robocop when they first tried to boot him up. Much like that, I am sure we are going to experience many technical (and other -cal) difficulties with my brain plugged into a blog. But even Robocop eventually got it together after eating some baby food and stabbing the bad guy with his unnecessarily sharp data probe. Just to clarify, I’m talking about the 80’s version Robocop. I never saw the new one. Did you? Was it any good? Maybe I’ll watch it on demand. Probably not though because that sounds like too much work, pushing buttons to find it. OK, if it comes on HBO while I happen to be cycling through the channels then maybe I’ll watch it. But only if it’s close to the beginning. This post has gone off the rails already. This is pretty much what you can expect from here on out…