I See That You Have a Horn Growing Out Of Your Head

I've often wondered how it would be to visit any bloggers who I've had the pleasure of interacting with for awhile now. Though it sounds like a quaint idea, this could be a dangerous action to take with serious consequences in the end. I mean- What if you surprise me by throwing me a party? Or a parade, in my honor, even? Or drug me and take advantage of me in my slumber? Gosh, my humble and modest self wouldn't know what to do except blush and act all embarrassed and stuff.

And let me tell you, when I start feeling a little disconcerted, I tend to break a mighty wind and juggle my brightly colored balls. Yes, I carry them with me in my Suitcase O' Fun. I just so happened to buy these balls off of a circus accessories type website one day. What? You didn't think I was talking about my own cojones, did ya? Nah! The only time my jolly, friendly trouser bells are brightly colored is when I paint rainbows on them. Makes me feel all peppy, festive and stuff.

So... when should I come over?

And then there's always the chance I'd come over and I would get the surprise of my life by finding out that you have a horn growing out of your head. Talk about your awkward moments. I wouldn't be able to look away, either. I mean- you might have a unicorn horn growing out of your forehead or have a kooky looking horn like this woman down below.

You could be eating a baby's leg, too, while I'm standing there, attempting to make conversation. Then what am I supposed to do? Tear the other one off and gnaw on it so you don't feel awkward eating alone, in front of me?

You could be a religious psychopath, too, pushing your beliefs in the powers of the Almighty Bullwinkle on me.

Or you could pretend to be normal for awhile and we're sitting there, all cozy and shit, in your living room and you suddenly jump out of your refried bean bag chair and shout, "Holy Toledo! I forgot to introduce my cross eyed, drooling retarded cousin, Alfonso, to ya." At that moment, Alfonso peeks around the corner at me, widens his retarded eye at me and stumbles into the living room with a bloody meat cleaver in one hand and his festering pecker in the other.

Running out the door without so much as a goodbye may be an act of rudeness to you, the generous host, but I would likely be inclined to do it. After all, I don't wish to take the chance that Alfonso gets too close for comfort and allows his pus-oozing pecker to drip into the cup of freshly brewed coffee you made just for me.

I'm all about good manners, you know, but you have to draw the line somewhere in the landscape of picturesque penile disorders.

Seriously, who's to assume exactly what to expect when visiting a fellow blogger. Still, since I'm curious about such things and I wonder if they're just as funny, interesting (in a good way) or intelligent as they portray themselves in their blogs, I would take my chances and do it. If there should be some awkward silence between us, at any point during my stay, I could handle it. There's no need to have our mouths yapping about, in a constant state of vocalization. In fact, that kind of thing can be just as bothersome to me as the quiet times.

And if you're somewhat crazy, in a non lethal way, I would likely get along better with you. I find people who are slightly touched in the head to be interesting and humorous. People who are too humdrum or try too hard to act "normal" cause me to become frustrated around them. Unlike the slightly unusual folks, they don't interest me and, in fact, kinda annoy the shit of me because they're boring me. I'm never sure if it's on purpose or just because they severely lack in the personality department.

I've actually left people standing at parties or other public places while they're still jabbering away about the most mundane of topics. You can look at this gesture as being rude but I look at it as being rude that they're taking up my time by talking about something that any ol' flesh and blood, conformist droid could and will talk about. Those that engage in that type of conversation should consider themselves just peachy-keen lucky if I come up with an oh-so-incredible excuse for leaving you with your jaw dropped in mid-sentence, too. I might offer an "I have to leave now to take a shit" or something smooth like "Your face gives me a stomach ulcer from hell."

Signs that I may be bored with those things you call words that won't stop popping, incessantly, out of your mouth would be:

Fidgeting from foot to foot

Falling asleep

Watching the clouds in the sky

Choking the living shit out of you

But, chances are, that since we are either interacting with each other between our blogs, exchanging fascinating messages on Facebook, twittering our twitters or trading emails, I will most likely enjoy your company in person and you'll be able to keep my utmost attention. Gosh, good news for you, huh? I can feel the radiant, heart-warming glow of your excitement from all the way over here. Oh, that's just a belch you just burped from all that rancid unicorn meat you've been eating. Ah, well. Sometimes we get mixed signals from one another.

So, like I said before... when should I come over? Heh heh.