Nailgun Salutations

The more I venture out into the swampy marsh of the public mass the more I realize – to hell with Disneyland – home is the greatest place on Earth. Disneyland completely blows, by the way. It’s hot, boring, humid; a dainty, sparkly black hole filled with only bright colors and loud noises hoping to brainwash your senses into believing that entertainment is disturbingly large creatures wanting to be photographed with you before they usher you to the exit, handing you a single-bullet revolver so you may use it on yourself once you get home because there is no place more fun than Disneyland. It’s a good thing they hand the guns out outside the exit gates, otherwise it would be a full blown, foam-stuffed massacre every weekend.

Today’s new discovery in the evolution of basic social contact is that apparently the phrase, “Well, take care,” and others resembling its context of farewell no longer means farewell. Now, it is a segue used by people with the most uninteresting things to say to continue saying uninteresting things. Long gone are the days when the complementary “Take care” and generally complacent “See you later” took the place of the somewhat depressingly ultimate “Goodbye.” Fortunately, “Goodbye” has maintained its unmistakable context – Good god, I am so glad to be finished talking to this prick.

One more new social ritual has begun irking my ire – holding deep conversations in a door’s threshold. People needing to enter and exit at a steady pace are forced to either hold fort until the two brainless talking ass-scratching posts are finished with their talk of the weekends sales at the outlet malls and about their children whom really either parent could care less about the other person’s child.

If it was a rare occasion I wouldn’t mind so much, but three times in one day, six times in a week this happened. The good thing is that after the last one, everyone that needs to know is now informed to get the hell out of the way if they see me coming, especially since I will be holding a nail gun. If they like talking between doors so much, they can hang there and talk all day long. At least they won’t be blocking the path any longer.