What ever do you mean, socially inept?!

I used to go into the city a lot more than I do now. That changed for a few reasons, the most important of them being I'm unemployed. I've passed the age where there's nothing for me to do anymore. Now I'm just broke.

Interesting fact. Living in a city between the ages of fourteen and twenty is rather lame. There isn't really much for someone who isn't still in awe of The Duck, but isn't old enough to drink legally, to do.

Anyway, yeah, I don't really go into the city much anymore. But in my more recent forrays into the Philadelphia Metropolitan area has left me with some rather interesting hypothesises. For those of you who don't know (which I'm assuming is none of you, since probably the only people reading this are people I'm friends with) I am a chubby, generally cheerful, socially awkward black girl who suffers from a caustic stew of mental problems. (ADHD and Depression being the big ticket items. They're like, the the bleach and vinegar to my mental chlorine gas.) So, putting me in a small, building with three, young, skinny, pretty, likely fairly well adjusted white girls is bound to leave me feeling kind of awkward.

They were the happy, cheerful kind of girls that generally make me uncomfortable. Customer service should never be so upbeat.

Anyway, I was at an animal rescue in Old City. There were these girls, two adorable Pit Bull mixes, and fifty bajillion cats. Yes, that is a real number. It's hidden between fifty-two and fifty-three. Anyone who knows me knows what I was drawn to, but for those who don't, there was a freaking adorable Pit/Lab mix puppy that just pissed all over the floor of its very nice kennel that I wanted to hug and love and never let go. The problem now was, I needed permission to go into the kennel. That meant I had to talk to Peppy McHappycheer. The conversation went uncomfortable quickly.

"Hey, I wanted to know if I was allowed to check out that little black Pit pup in the back kennel."

"Oh yeah! You just have to make sure you stay in there for at least fifteen minutes."

"Oh, yeah, I know. I used to volunteer here. A few times...a couple years ago. Then I moved out of town. Um, but I moved back now."

"Mhm..."

-long, awkward pause, filled with Jazzy pacing the rescue-

"I, um, I'm just waiting for my boyfriend-doohickey to come back."

-Peppy McHappycheer gives a look like I just said I had sex with Stalin and enjoyed it-

"Shit...um...where is he?"

Yes, Jazzy has the magical ability of breaking happy people by making them think they're dealing with a psychopath. Can any of YOU do that without trying? Yeah, didn't think so.