And speaking of on-the-spot come-backs...

(and posting more often): Sometimes I wonder if there is something wrong with the way I was raised. I can never seem to interact with crowds and strangers appropriately; even simple, human reflexes, like saying "hello" or "thank you" dry up in my throat. I often find myself whispering to people, or worse, mouthing things at them. Imagine if a giant goldfish came up to you -- a check-out girl at the grocery store -- you might nod encouragingly as the goldfish gulped away at the air, but in the end, you would never know if the poor thing wanted cash back or was just making small talk about the weather. 

I don't remember any dark moment of my childhood that might have led to this extreme form of social anxiety. Maybe I was secretly raised by evil gypsies, forced to travel the land and deliver sub-par stand-up routines each night of my young life, and I just repressed it like any other unpleasant memory. I doubt it. Perhaps I spent too much time staring at Jim, my fish, or playing with Ninja Turtle dolls, and, like a child raised by wolves, lost any need for language. I don't know. 

It's only important that I discover the cause of this problem so that I can cure it. My inability to speak to strangers has, aside from causing small annoyances like not being able to order in bars, really cut down on the amount of biting sarcasm and well-deserved citizen citations that I can dole out. 

Example: I was standing in line at the worst Dunkin Donuts in the world, when I felt this tapping on my shoulder. I ignore it because who taps people at 9 AM before they've had their coffee? Children? I don't talk to them. The tapping continues, so I turn, and it's a full-grown lady, who tells me, "I could take your wallet right out of your purse!" I froze. Was this a threat? She went on, however, to tell me that she could see my wallet sitting inside my very large purse and that, if she were a thief, she could have grabbed it and been gone. 

I wanted to respond that the joke would be on her because then she'd be stuck with a raggedy wallet, an out-dated Georgia driver's license and a gift certificate to the GAP. But I couldn't tell her that. Nor could I tell her, "Don't worry -- this is just the decoy wallet, I keep my real wallet hidden from criminals like yourself." All I could do was make big eyes at her, nod and remove the wallet from my purse -- thereby keeping it safe in my grip of steel. That story isn't nearly as amusing as the one I imagined -- the one where I had a voice! 

 

There are many people in this world who need my particular brand of tough love. That woman needed someone to tell her that, while she though she was doing a public service, she was really just annoying me and providing fodder for a blog post. The asshole who sits on the stairs in the subway station needs to be told that stairs are for walking on.  The drunk ex-fratty who thinks that massaging your arm as he yells inanities at you will help him get you home from the bar needs to be told that I will stab him if he doesn't stop. If I have no voice, how can I tell these poor, misguided souls that what they are doing is, in fact uncalled-for and, also, that it makes everyone want throw them in a very deep pit? They need these warnings, and I need to cure this serious affliction. 

Suggestions, dear readers, are welcome.