Don't challenge me to a staring contest unless you want to lose

I opted out of the family Christmas experience this year. I had planned on spending it with friends, but I actually ended up alone for the majority of the holiday. Unless you want to count cats, which just sounds impressively pathetic. My reasoning behind staying in the city was that it would be less stressful. If you read my last post, you may have sensed that my hypothesis didn't necessarily hold up. By nightfall on Christmas, I was in rather a shit mood. After Christophucker "fired" me, I was walking down the street to get to the bus, grumbling to myself that it was stupid not to have gone to see my family, cursing about this and that, giving people dirty looks, you know...just generally spreading holiday cheer.

I'm nuttier than a squirrel turd, and that is A-OKAY!

I used to tell myself I wasn't crazy. I'd say "Sometimes people think I am crazy, but I'm really not..." followed by whatever explanation about how my thought patterns or behavior are normal, sane, rational, whatever.
Well, it came to my attention this summer that I AM, in fact, quite round the bend. When people think of the kind of crazy that does NOT involve hearing voices in one's head and seeing things, but does involve neurosis and unfathomable behavior and thoughts, they are thinking of things that I think, say, and do. Or have in the past. Regularly. I am, fortunately, a rather high-functioning crazy person, but I am still motherfucking crazy, and I don't feel the need to split hairs about it. In fact, I feel the need to claim it. Proudly. Crazy isn't necessarily a bad thing...especially if you know you are, and you're working on it (It's the people that