Cup racism

Sometimes when I’m just walking down streets in public I wont exactly follow the perfect “your out in public” persona. Its like, “YOUR OUT IN PUBLIC!!!” kind of like an annual thing where people allow me to escape from my cage in my bedroom and allow me to be free amongst people.

Normal people walk down the street with friends or other people, even alone, and don’t converse with strangers or look anyone in the eye directly. Unless you’re me.

When I walk down a street, even in a car or something; I’m constantly looking at people walking down a cement pavement look so inconspicuous. Then I strike.

I yell at them, and tell them that I like their hair, or even that I like their bag, they usually get weirded out or cross the street and try to block me out of their minds, ignoring me completely.

This is when I get creative, sometimes I won’t even know what I’m yelling at them, if it even makes sense or not, it’ll sometimes come out in a jumble of words and if they didn’t hear me correctly I get awkward and run away. Kinda like

“ILIKEYOURHATTODAYITSQUITELOVELY…IWISHIHADONEJUSTLIKEIT”

“what did you say?” *PENETRATING LOOK THAT COULD SHOOT A FLYING RHINO OUT OF THE SKY*

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” *runs away*

I believe I had this one guy chase me down and ask me specifically what I just said. I don’t quite understand why he needed to know, but I was frightened and when I told him I was just complimenting his tie he was like

“Oh… okay I thought you were someone else then”

WHO DID YOU THINK I WAS MYSTERY MAN? WHO?! YOUR MOM?! THE SECRET FEDERAL AGENT SOCIETY OF ORANGES?! WHOOOOOO?? I’VE NEVER BEEN MORE CONFUSED MAN-WITH-A-NICE-TIE!

So then I ran away again, and I didn’t want to go past that street again in worrisome that he would suspect me of spying and shooting me with a laser canon the size of a pocket mouse. I’ve seen Men In Black….0

This one time I was home my dad asked me to do the dishes, so I got up, tiresomely, and I did the dishes. I didn’t just do the dishes, but I just put things where they would usually go.

About an hour or so goes by,

And I was on the computer, when I heard my name being called.

“REEEEEEEEEESE”

I got up and followed the voice, which was in the kitchen, my dad was standing next to the cupboard looking at the cups, “Look at the cups, tell me whats wrong” he said.

I went up, and there wasn’t really anything wrong.

Then he said; “the blue and white are mixed! Keep it with blue on the top out of reach and white in the middle cupboard where we can reach it.”

My dads cup racist.

I organized them, but I felt really bad :/

I used to love math, math was like my BITCH I was so amazing at it I was a kid that was high on subtraction and adding... even though I never really got division, I loved to multiply.

Somewhere along the lines (X's and Y's probably) I lost interest and now if someone even bring up math I treat it like the bubonic plague and I try to run from it or act like a crazed cat and scratch the tits out of the question before putting down "the X IS RIGHT HERE" with an arrow.

Or sometimes I answer it with "I DON'T KNOW WHY BILLI WOULD NEED SO MANY PUMPKINS WHAT IS HE GOING TO DO? OPEN UP A THROW THIS SMALLER PUMPKIN AT A BIGGER PUMPKIN?! THAT'S RIDICULOUS HE DOESN'T NEED PUMPKINS LEAVE ME ALONE" I do not understand D:

Math is the only time such ridiculous questions can come up and you have to answer them. A lot of the time, if I didn’t feel like knowing the answer or doing the work I’d write out my own impression of the answer.

Enjoy these few that I found on Google and answered: