Inside Doug's Head

It is never too late to become wise.

Since I am not really very good at being around people—I tend to inadvertantly say and do things that horrify them and make them cry—I’m always on the lookout for tips that will make the unsettling aspects of meeting people and engaging them in conversation a little bit easier for me, and for them. One clever suggestion that I came across is to, when meeting people for the first time, ask them for a simple favor. The act of helping you out will form a lightweight personal bond that can serve as a starting point for further conversations. A short while ago, I had the opportunity to put this social tactic to the test, with not so favorable results. Although, I think I may have misinterpreted what was meant by a simple favor, because the people helping me out were eagerly helping me out the door. For some reason, whenever people call me Sir, they feel compelled to add, You’re causing a disturbance.

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On that day, Linda was supposed to be in the control room monitoring the pressure readings while drilling was in progress. Sadly, she wasn’t there. Instead, she was away, taking care of some personal business. Dirty, sinful business. She was off getting some things down on paper, if you catch my meaning. She was gone… pooping. During the accident investigation, it was assumed that the fire and subsequent explosion were the result of that bean she ate the day before. Linda was always eating beans and lentils, often with explosive results.

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A nickname is something you call someone when you can’t remember their name, or when their name has a lot of syllables and no vowels. Often times, nicknames serve as affectionate handles for people, drawing attention to some distinguishing aspect of their appearance or personality, or perhaps to some noteworthy incident in their past. Examples would include names such as, Andre the Giant, Scarface, Pretty Boy, Whitey, and Honky. These names could refer to persons who are really big, an epileptic guy who shaves with a straight razor, a handsome though somewhat effeminate man, an albino or any white guy, and a duck, respectively.

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If you have not read Reality, you should do that now, otherwise this one won’t make any sense.

We had established that the person’s name, for the purposes of figurative illustration, would be, Greg, but then I lost the essential thread of where the story was going, and I thought it best to end the narrative immediately, rather than let it diminish towards incoherent rambling. Now, having regained sufficient mental context, I may continue. Greg was sullen and prone to displays of unfiltered emotional outbursts. Fits of hissy, if you will.

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