Stupid questions. While they may annoy the shit out of me they also provide a laugh. I have a love/hate relationship with these things.
I hate them when they’re asked and I love them later when I can laugh about them.
I had one in particular make my Top 5 this week. There’s no real moral to this story, just an example of how weird people can be…
Disclaimer: I’m far from possessing an intact set of social skills but when people best me in the worst category, I get a kick out of it. After the fear and or annoyance passes, of course.
So after meeting with my editor on Friday, some friends asked me to meet them at the BAM for a show. I had nothing to do and I could use the socialization, keep me from going home and being a hermit, (which I’m very good at).
I got there two minutes till late and sat down right as it was starting. No talking until intermission, then it was just a few awkward exchanges with my married friends’, friend.
Did I like the Velvet Underground? Not particularly.
Where did I live? Hell’s Kitchen. (Which my friend piped up was appropriate due to my hellish nature. The stranger didn’t get it.)
Did I want a brownie? No, thank you. (And then my friend hit him. Don’t offer the ex-junkie drugs!)
Anyway, the rest of the concert went on and the talking stopped. We all ended up taking the same train back into Manhattan. I got sat next to the friend who would have liked this to be a date. I was trying to focus on my friends without slighting their friend, who also wouldn’t take money for the ticket, so I had to play nice.
More questions.
Do you read? Yes.
Like what? Thompson, Kerouac, Cave, Robbins; (also my influences).
So what’s all this hellish stuff mentioned earlier? What about the pentagram? Are you a Satanist? No, no. I am a bit of a bitch, hence the hellish comment and joke. I love the occult and have an obsession with symbolism and the misunderstood.
Have you read Crowley? Not really.
Here comes the stupid question…
I live on Central Park West, would you like to come over and see my snakeskin bound copy of Aleister Crowley’s, De Arte Magica? Ah no, thank you.
Had he not been friends with my close friends, I would have told him to beat it in a ruder fashion. I informed him in a laughing tone, that this was my stop and I had better go; I didn’t want him binding any books with my skin, (which is what his invitation seemed to offer).
I waved and scurried off the train, down the hallway and out onto the street. Safe!
Asking girls to come over to your home at night and check out snakeskin bound sex magic books is not the way to go.
At least not for this little hellion. I like being in one piece and not being used for possible sacrificial means.
People and their stupid questions. Will they ever learn?
Buy Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon today! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan
I hate them when they’re asked and I love them later when I can laugh about them.
I had one in particular make my Top 5 this week. There’s no real moral to this story, just an example of how weird people can be…
Disclaimer: I’m far from possessing an intact set of social skills but when people best me in the worst category, I get a kick out of it. After the fear and or annoyance passes, of course.
So after meeting with my editor on Friday, some friends asked me to meet them at the BAM for a show. I had nothing to do and I could use the socialization, keep me from going home and being a hermit, (which I’m very good at).
I got there two minutes till late and sat down right as it was starting. No talking until intermission, then it was just a few awkward exchanges with my married friends’, friend.
Did I like the Velvet Underground? Not particularly.
Where did I live? Hell’s Kitchen. (Which my friend piped up was appropriate due to my hellish nature. The stranger didn’t get it.)
Did I want a brownie? No, thank you. (And then my friend hit him. Don’t offer the ex-junkie drugs!)
Anyway, the rest of the concert went on and the talking stopped. We all ended up taking the same train back into Manhattan. I got sat next to the friend who would have liked this to be a date. I was trying to focus on my friends without slighting their friend, who also wouldn’t take money for the ticket, so I had to play nice.
More questions.
Do you read? Yes.
Like what? Thompson, Kerouac, Cave, Robbins; (also my influences).
So what’s all this hellish stuff mentioned earlier? What about the pentagram? Are you a Satanist? No, no. I am a bit of a bitch, hence the hellish comment and joke. I love the occult and have an obsession with symbolism and the misunderstood.
Have you read Crowley? Not really.
Here comes the stupid question…
I live on Central Park West, would you like to come over and see my snakeskin bound copy of Aleister Crowley’s, De Arte Magica? Ah no, thank you.
Had he not been friends with my close friends, I would have told him to beat it in a ruder fashion. I informed him in a laughing tone, that this was my stop and I had better go; I didn’t want him binding any books with my skin, (which is what his invitation seemed to offer).
I waved and scurried off the train, down the hallway and out onto the street. Safe!
Asking girls to come over to your home at night and check out snakeskin bound sex magic books is not the way to go.
At least not for this little hellion. I like being in one piece and not being used for possible sacrificial means.
People and their stupid questions. Will they ever learn?
Buy Hi, Have You Met Me? on Amazon today! http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00B009W1M
Check out the blog on it's home site @
www.hihaveyoumetme.com for previous writings and more.
Don’t forget to stalk me further at https://twitter.com/#!/hihaveyoumetme orhttp://www.facebook.com/authorkatemonahan