Don't get PC on me and start crusading on my blog for more tolerance in the public schools! I'm not talking about the weird kid who sniffs glue and might come after you with a soggy animal cracker. I'm talking about the kid whose friends pressured him into playing a friendly game of kickball at recess only to have to be comforted by said friends and glared at by other team members because he: a) can't kick the ball, b) can't run fast, c) is terrified of physical activity.
And, no, I do not mean it literally.
And, no, I do not mean it literally.
I'm not going to hellsies.
I was chatting with a friend last night online. He was asking for my perspective and advice about this girl he has set his cap to. So I shared my thought. Then he asked the hard question. "How do I do that?"
I glibly responded, "I dunno. I suck at romance. I'm like the fat kid playing kickball."
I laughed even though he didn't. I think he was picturing my burning fate in the afterlife for my callous use of sensitive topics for comedic effect.
I was chatting with a friend last night online. He was asking for my perspective and advice about this girl he has set his cap to. So I shared my thought. Then he asked the hard question. "How do I do that?"
I glibly responded, "I dunno. I suck at romance. I'm like the fat kid playing kickball."
I laughed even though he didn't. I think he was picturing my burning fate in the afterlife for my callous use of sensitive topics for comedic effect.
Maybe I am going to hell, but it'll be a party.
