Rants & Essays

Freaky Bitches

By The Lighthouse Keeper

Hey troops.

So here I am at 10:00 a.m. on a Saturday... I'm missing Animaniacs...and I'm at work after staying out until 3:00 a.m. this very same morning. It's amazing to me some of the things people will just say sometimes. It's kind of crazy actually.

Quick side note: Has anyone noticed that, unless you're completely trashed when you get home, intimacy is usually more intense after a night out at a club? Maybe it's just me. I dunno.

Anyways. Needless to say that even though we got home at 3:30, we didn't actually go to sleep until about 5:30. I had to be at work at 7:30...which means I needed to be up no later than 6:45. Going out last night seemed to be a good idea upon conception, but I'm loathing myself for it now.

So I'm sitting at my desk minding my own business...just me and the bags under my eyes and that wierd, psuedo-hung-over "drawn" look about my person...sipping my coffee and reading the MSNBC News. This guy (I honestly don't even know his name) comes up to my desk and says, "So where did you go last night?"

I figured I looked like shit. So it was kind of obvious that I had not had a lot of sleep and even though I normally don't speak before noon on any given day, much less one where I've only had an hour of sleep, I humored him. "The Castle." I said, and went about reading the news hoping this person would wander off and bug someone else.

"The Castle? Isn't that…some sort of like...gothic motif place?"

Now I was getting a little irritated and wished I'd just not spoken in the first place. But... hey... I am a good sport. (SHRUG) So I sighed and said, "Yeah. It is."

Now this is the part that got me. This next part is the part that left me with that feeling of my eyeballs throbbing after he said it. This next part is the reason I really don't like people as a group. The guy says, after a few seconds of silence, "Are there a lot of freaky bitches there?"

I kind of snickered one of those completely involuntary snickers of complete disdain...you know the ones...the ones that sound like little coughs.

Freaky bitches.

Here's some guy I don't know from Adam's cat…who doesn't know the first thing about me...and I dunno, call me a prude, but I honest to God couldn't believe he said that. Needless to say I didn't dignify his comment with a response. Sometimes it's amazing to me what people...in complete innocence or ignorance...will say to perfect strangers. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation married to the slight hang-over that's making me a little more irritable than normal, but I found myself really wanting to grab hold of this guy's ear and twist it 'till he hollered.

Sometimes I feel detached from my subculture... maybe I'm growing out of touch with things...like maybe I'm getting too old (residual birthday depression, there.) to really elate in the meaning of the Latin "Carpe Noctem." And you know...it only takes one clueless mundane at the right time to say the wrong thing to snap me back into a sudden realization that I am not like "them." We are not like them.

Yeah, asshole. There's a lot of "freaky bitches" there...and you know what? Most of them have more class in their corset laces than you'll ever have in your entire life. Now go away before I bury my stir-stick up your snoutish little nose.

And they call us freaks. *sigh* Sometimes I just don't know anymore.