What I Think About You

Hey, internet. It's Hamtackle here. I just wanted to take a few moments to be completely honest with you at one of my weakest moments. The lucky few that are already acquainted with me know that I have mild insomnia, and in the past two nights I managed three hours of sleep two nights ago and zero last night. And I currently have my alarm set to go off in seven hours and I don't have high hopes for getting much needed rest tonight, either.

 

In my admittedly delusional state I have decided to throw a few basic observations and blanket judgements about you. Not just those of you I have met, but all of you.

 

Firstly, far too few of you are attractive enough to bother turning my head to make eye contact with. And before you say "But Hamtackle, YOU are just a miserable, ugly fatass yourself!" let me stop you there. This isn't about me, so get your fucking foot off of my soapbox. Anymore, the only people who get my attention are the freakishly obese or disabled, the people that you just know are going to hurt themselves or others at any moment, and I don't want to miss the action.

 

And the minority that are attractive are only worth looking at, not engaging in any kind of meaningful conversation. I work at a facility with nearly 700 other individuals and the statistically insignificant amount of physically pleasant-looking people are the types that they invented sporks for. They are too dumb to be trusted with anything sharp enough to cause significant injury. So if you consider yourself smart, you are repulsive. And if you consider yourself attractive, you are stupid. And self-absorbed/vain.

 

And for those that I might encounter one day and regrettably make momentary eye contact with, if I smile at you there is a 100% chance that I already hate you. A smile is my way of dismissing you from further interaction. This should be made more obvious by my immediate effort to find something at hand to pay attention to, thus assuring you will walk away without so much as verbal pleasantries.

 

So please leave me alone, unless you notice I am actively on fire, in which case I would appreciate a liberal splash of gasoline to put us both out of my misery. Now that I have this off my chest I am going to try to sleep. I have a team of fourteen people to supervise tomorrow, and it is going to take a significant amount of personal effort to maintain the ruse that I don't secretly wish to receive a phone call some day explaining that they will not be returning to work due to personal heartbreak, tragedy, or demise at the hands of ritual-driven urban neo-cannibals.

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