Discrimination is the Best Medicine

Ahh...Political Correctness (if correctness is even a word).  You know, I really try to be politically correct which is hard to do in this day and age.  Instead of stereotyping minorites, I find that a nice dose of reverse discrimination keeps me safe and on the politically correct track.

You know what I mean.  Whenever I'm at the airport, I signal TSA about potential terrorists.  I'm relieved when I see them checking twenty-two year old white women pushing strollers around.  Strollers, ha, more like anthrax sponges.  Whenever I'm at the clothing store, I stand next to the dressing room making sure the attendant gives the customers the right number.  That Gladys is always trying to sneak leather pants out under her moo-moo.  Man, that policy is sooo hetero. Whenever I am in a crowded area like church I keep careful hold of my belongings (hello tithing, cha-ching!), and check my pockets after walking past the primary children.  You can never be too careful.   

RUOCD2?

In my opinion, everyone has mentally ill tendencies.  It's one's ability to control these impulses that preserves his or her sanity.  For example, are you ever sitting at your desk in the office quietly typing away when the sudden urge to climb onto your desk, do an irish jig, and sing Moulin Rouge almost overwhelms you?  Or have you ever been in a dark theatre watching a play considering the consequence of giving the gray haired man directly in front of you a wet willy or at least flicking the center of his balding head?  Of course no sane person would ever follow through on such impulses but we all have them. 

Am I right?

Well, I'm just gonna come out and say it right now.  I hate stepping on the cracks.  I walk around campus with my head down dodging all the cracks in the cement.  Right, it's a dumb habit, but where do you think the saying, "It's all fun and games until somebody gets hurt," came from?

   So far I've diagnosed myself as having OCD tendencies mixed with slight ADD and a sprinkle of Bipolar Disorder.   Guess we should add hypochondria to the list, heh heh.  Consider this my plea for help.  

Don't Forget a Title...Don't Forget a Title....

     Hey!  I'm back.  So, it took me about an hour to get into my blog today.  It seems I forgot my password again.  You know, many life experiences have proved just how poorly I keep track of information.  My subconscious simply refuses to remember anything that doesn't interest me.  This wouldn't be so bad if I wasn't surrounded by people who remember everything like when their friends are going on vacation, or what teachers they signed up for, or which shoe goes on which foot.  I'm not kidding!  I can hardly remember to zip up my pants and my friends are practically holding a gun to my head asking me to recall my pin/account number?

    Well, I thought maybe I should be worried about my absentmindedness when I heard something somewhere about absent minded people being geniuses.  According to this whatever it was, geniuses are forgetful because they don't focus on humdrum details that others do.  Their genius minds are so busy being wildly creative, they just don't process minor information.  Well, Eureka!  I knew there was some way I could blame my forgetfulness on something other than genuine, inconsiderate disinterest.