talking to people is difficult

I'm shy and quiet-natured, and meeting people is difficult for me. I'm afraid of half the people I already know, and terrified of new people.

There are billions of different people, and billions of different personalities, but some people seem to fit certain molds.

There are those who are timid and quiet-natured, like me. Conversations with them are difficult and while we'd make good friends, we're too terrified of each other to make it happen.

There are people who have no filter between their brains and their mouths, and they spew out a mindless babble of everything that occurs inside their head.

They're actually easier to be around, because I don't feel pressured to say anything.
All I have to do is make occasional, simple comments.

But sometimes, I actually have matters on my mind I would like to talk about. So I can't be around endless-babble-makers all the time.


There are also the people who share their opinions about everything ever. They are a more annoying type of endless-babble-spewer. They even share their opinions on the eggs they ate for breakfast and how the person that made those eggs just needs to go fall off a cliff and die, because anyone who cooks eggs that horribly doesn't deserve to live.

I don't have much patience for these people and their exaggerations. I avoid them as much as possible, so I don't make the mistake of hitting them in the face, causing them to spew out more opinions on how my fist smells like a rotten diaper. Or whatever.

I don't really care that they think my fist smells like a rotten diaper. Unless it actually does. But that's a whole different issue.

Then there are intelligent people with broad vocabularies. I enjoy their company quite a lot.

At the same time, though, they stress me out, because I feel like I have to say equally smart-sounding things and I'm afraid I'll fail.

There are also people who seem intelligent at first, but after talking to them for a few minutes, I realize they only sound intelligent because they make references to other things and think few original thoughts. Conversations with these people deteriorate quickly.

I'm secretly afraid that these people are robots. I'm also afraid I'll make a bad reference or--God forbid--get a meme wrong.

Reference-makers stress me out and terrify me, because even though I know they don't think very much, I still feel the need to impress them. It's more difficult to impress a dumb person who thinks he's smart than it is to impress an actual smart person.

But the very worst situation is when I'm in a room full of all these kinds of people, and they keep talking and talking, and I can't think of anything to say, and they all say to me is, "Daww, you're so cute and quiet!"
And then they all look at me and expect me to speak.

I just smile and form an escape plan.

Talking to people is difficult.

Theodore the Baby Vampire

Once upon a time, there was a baby vampire.

His name was Theodore. People made fun of him for it.

Then he realized he was a vampire, not a crybaby. So he ate their faces.

It's all penguins.

During the holiday season, I go home to my parents and I behave like a small child. The closer Christmas comes, the more my cognitive skills dissolve into childlike reasoning. It's two days before Christmas, and I'm afraid these few coherent sentences are all I can manage because CHRISTMAS AHHHHAAAHAHA!

Did you know that Santa Claus is actually a penguin?

Yep, he is! And so are the elves!

THE REINDEER ARE PENGUINS!
(What, how? Deer are not penguins, idiot. Furthermore, penguins can't fly.)
WHO CARES? THE REINDEER ARE PENGUINS.

Mrs. Claus is a penguin.

Santa's sleigh is a penguin!

Hmm, maybe I should have drawn that differently.

Your Christmas tree is a penguin!

Yup! And I bet you don't expect this one!
YOU'RE A PENGUIN.

Your mom is a penguin!

Your face is a penguin.

Your mom's face is a penguin!

I JUST ATE A BROWNIE. NO MORE COHERENCE FOR ME TODAY! AAAAAHAHAHAA CHRISTMAS!

Nonsense and Nonsensibility

Ever read Sense and Sensibility by Jane Austen? If not, keep reading to find a shorter, modified version. (spoiler alert)

Here are the characters who actually matter in the story (there are about a million characters, each with distinct personalities, but most of them are upper-class married rich ladies who only want to talk about who's getting married, and their old husbands who just want everyone to shut up so they can go shoot down some pigeons).

In case you couldn't tell by looking at him, Willoughby is a douche. He makes poor little fifteen-year-old hormone-bomb Marianne fall in love with him and then he abruptly runs away and marries someone else. Wow.

This makes Marianne sad. She becomes a depressed, crazy person. Then she and Elinor go to London. Yay London!

Elinor has to take care of her psychotic younger sister. Everyone feels bad for Marianne. Nobody cares about Elinor and her angst. Elinor likes Edward but she doesn't tell anybody.

Then Elinor makes "friends" with a vapid idiot named Lucy.

Poor Elinor. She's the only character I like. For some reason, though, Elinor continues to love Edward. While I seriously question his taste and his judgment.

 Then everyone in the book mopes for a while. Marianne and Elinor leave London and try to go home, but Marianne gets so depressed she makes herself sick and has a giant fever and everyone thinks she's gonna die.

THEN. THEN, that jerk Willoughby shows up from nowhere drunk.

To which Elinor basically replies,

I almost forgot Colonel Brandon! This is where he becomes important.

Colonel Brandon marries Marianne. Then they all die because the planet Jupiter decides to leave its orbit and engulf the earth.

THE END. (I haven't actually finished the book yet.)

Purple Durple Dumplin'