If You Must Smile for Someone's Superficial Comfort, Try Malicious Compliance

 

A Hairdresser vs. Garrison's Autism: You Can't Spell Hairdresser without the Letters HR

 

Extroverted Party Hostess vs. Garrison's Autism: Forever in Search of Common Ground

 

Doom in My Voice

VERSE 1

“Twinkle, smile, stay for a while

Got any plans to travel for miles?

What do you do to earn your paycheck?

What’s with the weather, like, holy heck?”

One-word answers are all I’ve got

Apathetic expression if you like it or not

Baritone voice, but there won’t be singing

This conversation has lost all meaning

 

CHORUS

“Just pray the negative away”

I don’t have a choice!

“Smiles never go to waste”

Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!

I just don’t give a damn

If you don’t like who I am

 

VERSE 2

If smiles cost nothing, authenticity is cheaper

Fuck the weather and the weekend, dig a little deeper

How the fuck did we get on this floating rock?

I’ve got so much trauma to unpack and unlock

How do we dismantle the oligarchy?

And give a middle finger to the patriarchy?

Got no common ground, your confusion speaks volumes

Strangers ‘til the end, don’t know what else to call you

 

CHORUS

“Just pray the negative away”

I don’t have a choice!

“Smiles never go to waste”

Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!

I just don’t give a damn

If you don’t like who I am

 

BRIDGE

Silence is golden, unlike my medals

I didn’t win at life, so I had to settle

I see your eyes darting to the left and right

Now you’re the one frowning and all uptight

My days blend together, joyless yet festive

I’m sorry if you want an inspirational message

The ones who have those are in the minority

You can only do so much under capitalist authority

 

CHORUS

“Just pray the negative away”

I don’t have a choice!

“Smiles never go to waste”

Don’t you hear the doom in my voice?!

I just don’t give a damn

If you don’t like who I am

I Didn't Mean to Bore You

VERSE 1

What do I do to earn my glorious payday?

More like what I do to pass the time away

I create magic universes for others to see

Create 3D characters who eventually bleed

Write it all down and let the printer’s ink dry

Which is more than I’ll say about your eyes

Ask more questions, go ahead, I implore you

I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

VERSE 2

One word answers are all that I’ll give

Code of silence is how I choose to live

Resting Bitch Face so photogenic

Photoshop’s got nothing on this edit

Blunt affect voice, my weapon of choice

Groaning and grunting, my only noise

Don’t take this as a sign I’ll ignore you

I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

BRIDGE

No common ground between the two of us

No longevity of friendship or moment of lust

Nothing to do but milk the grandfather clock

I can tell you’re more excited picking out socks

VERSE 3

Did I do anything fun on Valentine’s Day?

Sat on my ass and watched time tick away

Waiting for exhaustion to pass over my mind

Looking for inspiration anywhere I can find

Did I do anything fun on the fourth of July?

Just lay in my beddy-bye and ask myself why

Mandatory fun? I’d never even force you

I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

FINAL VERSE

Until next time when we’re strangers again

Remember me not as your favorite friend

Remember me not as the one who rewards you

I’m so, so sorry, I didn’t mean to bore you

Small Talk

VERSE 1

I don’t care about the weather, not now, not ever

Even in a blizzard, I can think of a topic much better

I don’t give a shit about how your day is going

I could go my whole life without once ever knowing

I don’t give a fuck about where your ass is from

Could you think of a question that isn’t so dumb?

I don’t give a damn about who your family is

I’m not a part of it nor someone you will miss

CHORUS

Fuck small talk! It’s boring!

All these words you’re storing!

I want peace! I want quiet!

I want motherfucking silence!

VERSE 2

I don’t give a rat’s ass about where you work

But telling you to fuck off will label me a jerk

I don’t give a flying fuck about your childhood

Sleep in your fetus jar like every child should

I don’t give a good goddamn about your car

Get your ass in it and drive away really far

I’d rather shoot myself in the fucking skull

Than listen to you give your string another pull

CHORUS

Fuck small talk! It’s boring!

All these words you’re storing!

I want peace! I want quiet!

I want motherfucking silence!

VERSE 3

An introvert’s dream is a Gracie Films shush

That goes unchallenged, not even a little push

An introvert’s paradise is a cat and a novel

Away from those who flap their gums and waddles

I’m not sorry for standing up for my own peace

I’m not sorry for making this conversation cease

Meaningless words fell on the deafest of ears

I don’t care if this makes me awkward and weird

EXTENDED CHORUS

Fuck small talk! It’s boring!

All these words you’re storing!

I want peace! I want quiet!

I want motherfucking silence!

Fuck small talk! It’s annoying!

There’s nothing worth enjoying!

I need rest! I need sleep!

Now beat it, you fucking creep!

Incelbordination, Chapter 20

Oswald Crow hated the man he saw in the mirror. He could forgive the fact that he had to stand on a footstool to see that image. He could forgive his own inability to attract women (despite his latest crush being married). He could forgive the idea that he’d caused all of his own worst problems. But the part that really made him stare bullets into the mirror…was his hair and his beard. He stroked his long, greasy locks with so much force that he damned near pulled out the follicles. He gripped his shaggy beard like he was making a fist, as if the thought of punching himself in the face was his greatest idea yet.

“No more…no more of this garbage…” he said with a menacing scowl. He gingerly stepped down from the footstool and put his medical boot back on. Walking had gotten a hell of a lot easier since his (hopefully) final encounter with Antero. He didn’t limp nearly as much and his speed had picked up just a little bit. All that was left was for him to find a better shirt to wear and out on the town he would go. How about Dark Side of the Moon T-shirt with prism, rainbow, and all?

When Oswald went for his trek downtown, he still played it safe and walked at a tender pace. Any residual pain he suffered in his foot was downplayed by one long glance around the misty city. A terrorist attack happened not too long ago and people still carried on with their daily lives. Some still shook with fear. Some still had the color drained from their faces. Some even shed a few tears. But even with all of this latent fear, Valerie’s prophecy came true: life went on. Oswald expected the results to be no different when he entered Two Bits Barber Shop.

But even for customer service standards, the barbers looked somewhat happy, just minding their own business and accumulating a pile of hair on the ground like nothing had happened. The blond lady at the service desk smiled a warm smile down at Oswald and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Do you take walk-ins?”

“We sure do. In fact, we have an opening right now if you’re ready.”

“Cool.”

“Can I get your name, please?”

“Oswald Crow.” He said his name with slight trepidation, as if it was as blasphemous to say as Jesus fucking Christ in a crowded mega church. But it turned out his name held no such weight in this strange barber shop. He wasn’t as big of a villain as he imagined himself to be.

He breathed a sigh of relief as the woman penciled his name in her schedule and never lost her happy expression. “Alright, Oswald, looks like I’ll be taking care of you today. My name is Callie. Do you need any help getting set up?”

“Nah, I’ve got this,” he said as he struggled to get into the barber’s chair. There were a few instances where he slipped and slid, much to the head shaking, hands-on-hips chagrin of Callie. She grabbed him by the hand and lifted him into the chair with minimal effort. “Guess I needed help after all.”

“You really shouldn’t be shy about accepting help from others. It’s what brings us all together,” said Callie while running her fingers through Oswald’s hair. “So what are we doing today?”

The little guy really didn’t think this one through. What would he look good with? A Mohawk? A high fade? A bald head? All he could muster up was a long, “Uh” and this got a giggle from Callie. She said, “How about if I surprise you with something? I think you’re going to like what I have in mind.”

Shrugging his shoulders, Oswald said, “Sure, why not?”

With that Callie got right to work on Oz-Man’s new hairstyle. Lots of spraying, lots of buzz-cutting, and lots of scissor snipping. There was enough hair on the ground to create another Oswald Crow and two Burmese kitties.

“So what do you do for a living?” asked Callie.

“I’m unemployed.”

“Oh,” said Callie with a twisted mouth and shifting eyes. “Okay.”

“I take that back. I’m a sex surrogate at a funeral home.”

The barber made a flat tire noise and shook her head at the joke. “See, that would have been a better response than saying you’re unemployed.”

“But it’s a lie.”

“Of course it was. I don’t think anybody here would willingly believe you get paid to do…that. The important thing here is that you have a sense of humor about it. Employers like that kind of thing. Granted, I wouldn’t use that particular joke, but you get the idea.”

“I don’t even know what I’m going to do once I get out of college.”

“Wait a minute, you’re in college? Why didn’t you say that when I asked you what you did for a living?”

“Because I don’t get paid for it. I’m the one making all the payments here.”

Patting Oz-Man’s shoulders, Callie said, “Listen, you don’t have to get paid in order to call something your profession. It could be something as simple as a hobby like building things or writing stories or carving soap.”

“Or sitting on my ass watching television.”

Callie let out a hearty laugh and struggled to compose herself. “Wow. You are something else, Oswald. On second thought, maybe being your delightful self is just what you need to land a job.”

He smiled, “I’m not as delightful as you think.”

“Oh really? Is that how you scared me off just now?” The little man didn’t have an answer for that except for a small sigh. “The fact that you’re willing to come in here and get a nice haircut shows me you care at least just a little bit what the world thinks of you.”

“Maybe I don’t care enough.”

“That’s something you need to find a balance with. You should care just enough to get your foot in the door and just little enough that you don’t lose yourself along the way. It takes work, but as a college student, you’re more than ready for it. I know it.”

Oswald kept quiet the rest of the time he was getting his haircut. Hating small talk aside, he didn’t want to get pieces of his locks in his mouth. He may have spit out a few strands here and there. But before he knew it, Oswald truly was a new man underneath all of that Wookie fur. The top of his head had short spikes, he had a low fade just underneath, and his beard was just short enough to not resemble an African jungle. The next time he looked in the mirror, he felt less and less like punching himself in the face. He ran his fingers through his remaining hair and said in a soft voice, “I look good.”

“You sure do,” said Callie with her sweet smile. “But we’re not done yet.”

As the barber walked away, a much taller presence in the form of a longhaired young man approached Oswald from the rear. At first the little guy swallowed a lump in his throat, thinking this guy was going to crush him with his massive hands. But instead the man with Damian on his nametag gently squeezed the tension out of Oswald’s shoulders and scalp. All the injuries, the bruises, and the cuts he received throughout his journey melted away from him like butter on popcorn. He could have transformed into a puddle right there on the chair.

No small talk, no frills, no gimmicks of any kind, just a gentle massage Oswald never knew he needed until then. He closed his eyes and allowed his healing mind to take him to faraway places. Tingles washed over his upper body. And then Damian grabbed little Oz-Man by the jaw and quickly twisted his neck in both directions. The crunching and popping noises echoed throughout the barbershop and managed to get a few stares from the customers. Oswald shook his jowls at the one second pain, but immediately relaxed again. “It’s been a while since I’ve had a massage and an adjustment.”

A smile etched on Damian’s pale face. “You should get them more often. It’s not unheard of for customers to come in here just for the massage.”

“Really?” Damian nodded. It took every ounce of strength in Oz-Man’s body (and assistance from Damian) to help himself down. He thought this could be a new treatment option for his mental illnesses, even if it only provided temporary relief. Maybe if he did it long enough…

He snapped back to reality when Callie ran his bill up for him. “That’ll be twenty dollars even.” Oswald pulled his wallet out and gave his barber and massage therapist an extra fifteen, but Callie waved the overpayment away. “We don’t accept tips here. We’re unionized, so we get paid well.”

“No kidding?”

“No kidding. Just the twenty dollars will do. Plus, you’re going to need that extra fifteen dollars for Jessica Bradley’s roses.”

Oswald’s eyes widened. She knew about that? His name was public knowledge and she didn’t let on the entire time? Was he really a big celebrity? Or a social pariah? What the hell was going on?

“Have a nice day!” said Callie as she and Damian waved at him with smiles on their faces. Oswald left the twenty dollar bill on the counter and hightailed it out of there.

Resting Bitch Face

***RESTING BITCH FACE***

I don’t take selfies very often unless it’s for Independent Author Day or Halloween (because I’m wearing a mask). I don’t own a smart phone, so I wouldn’t be able to take selfies anyways unless it was with my digital camera and someone else was the photographer. I don’t enjoy the way I look on camera (unless the photographer had some Photoshop magic to make me look like a sexy beast). But the biggest reason I don’t take selfies is because I don’t like to smile for fake reasons. As someone with Resting Bitch Face, smiling isn’t natural for me, so I don’t like being told to do it even for pictures.

Yes, Resting Bitch Face is a real thing for both men and women. It’s when your neutral expression makes you look annoyed, pissed off, or sad even though you’re not any of those things at the moment. If you have RBF, you’ve probably gotten tons of questions like “Are you okay?” and “What’s wrong?” in your lifetime. When I was dating Brianna, she would always ask if I was okay and I’d always answer yes. Whenever I went to a concert at the White River Amphitheater, the security personnel would also ask if I was okay and I’d give them the same answer.

And speaking of concerts, I saw Five Finger Death Punch in Tacoma back in November of last year and the couple sitting in front of me took a selfie with me looking angry in the background. We had a good laugh over it. But yes, it’s true: even when my heavy metal idols Five Finger Death Punch are the entertainment for the evening, I look like I want to strangle someone even though I’m feeling peaceful, if not excited for the music.

I Googled Resting Bitch Face and some search results said that it’s the reason people remain single or don’t get hired. So this is it, huh? I have to pretend to be something I’m not in order to gain an advantage in this world. Sounds familiar. Asking an RBF patient to smile relentlessly is like asking a skinny kid to be interested in football so that the big beefy jocks will like him. Yes, it seems like such an easy thing to just smile all the time. People say the same thing about introverts speaking up in class discussions or making a million friends. Just because it seems easy to an outsider, doesn’t mean it is for the person living the experience.

When it comes to my RBF, I don’t try to change it for other people. I own it. I make it a part of my unique personality. Do I have a million friends? No. Do I make millions of dollars in some job I wouldn’t want anyways? No. As a matter of fact, people in public tend to gravitate away from me, which is alright with me, because I don’t have to engage in small talk with people I don’t give a shit about.

Truth is, there’s no real reason why people make angry expressions when they feel neutral. It’s just the way it is. There’s no reason why people have big noses or pointy ears. It just happens. If you want to get a good feel for what a person is like beyond their rough exterior, show interest instead of just talking for the sake of talking. Maybe the guy with RBF is a poet and you don’t know it. Maybe the chick with RBF is an anime-loving nerd with more creative fuel than she knows what to do with. We’re not trying to push you away (unless you’re just there to chit-chat instead of showing genuine interest).

There are lots of articles and videos out there about RBF. I’m not a scientist who studies this phenomenon; I’m just an opinionated person who’s living through it. If you be nice to me, I’ll be nice to you. If you give me a reason to smile, I’ll give you what you’ve truly earned. Smiles have to be earned in this world; they’re not automatic. Some people deserve smiles, others don’t. We’ve got ears, say cheers!

***DEMON AXE, CHAPTER 20***

There are only two chapters remaining of this ongoing novel and the twentieth one will feature the final battle between Daniel Mercer and Roger Zee. Is it as simple as yelling obscenities into a magical microphone? Not when you have broken ribs and every scream hurts like a bitch. Perhaps someone else can do the dirty work, someone like Raven or Shawn. Nah, those guys are busy enough already trying to fend off King Arthur Triscloud, who has a crown of thorns around his head. If you were expecting an easy victory just because someone has a magical microphone, you’re sadly mistaken. If Daniel and his crew want to win this war, they have to earn it, just like strangers have to earn my smile.

Speaking of people with RBF…

***WRESTLING JOKE OF THE DAY***

If Samoa Joe and Kevin Owens ever become an official tag team, what will their group name be? Jowens? Samowens? Sevin? Hmm…

Frequently Asked Questions

QUESTION: What do you do for a living?
GENERIC ANSWER: I’m unemployed.
HONEST ANSWER: I write books about blood and gore.
LIE: I work with impoverished children in the Democratic Society of Who Gives a Shit.


QUESTION: Are you excited for school?
GENERIC ANSWER: I’m 30 years old; I’m too old for school.
HONEST ANSWER: Going to school leaves me dead inside.
LIE: I can’t fucking wait.


QUESTION: Where are you from?
GENERIC ANSWER: Here.
HONEST ANSWER: I was born in Oregon City.
LIE: I was born on Planet Jupiter. I come in peace.


QUESTION: Do you have a girlfriend?
GENERIC ANSWER: No.
HONEST ANSWER: Nobody will come up to me.
LIE: I’m currently in a relationship with the entire cast of WWE Total Divas.


QUESTION: What do you do for fun?
GENERIC ANSWER: Read and write.
HONEST ANSWER: Masturbate to sexy You Tube videos.
LIE: Skydive off of the Seattle Space Needle.


QUESTION: What kind of music do you like?
GENERIC ANSWER: Heavy metal.
HONEST ANSWER: Heavy metal songs about death and ass-beatings.
LIE: Sheryl Crow and The Dixie Chicks.


QUESTION: What do you like to watch on TV?
GENERIC ANSWER: Wrestling.
HONEST ANSWER: Violence. Lots and lots of violence.
LIE: Doctor Who.


QUESTION: What kind of books do you like to read?
GENERIC ANSWER: Anything with a fast pace.
HONEST ANSWER: Anything that leaves me emotionally unstable for the next few days.
LIE: Literary genre books that you’d find in college.


QUESTION: Are you doing anything fun for the weekend?
GENERIC ANSWER: Not really.
HONEST ANSWER: I’m going to a heavy metal concert of a band you probably don’t give a shit about.
LIE: I’m running a marathon.


QUESTION: Do you have a car?
GENERIC ANSWER: No.
HONEST ANSWER: Owning a car is expensive and driving itself is scary and stressful.
LIE: I have an SUV that costs a C-note to fill up half of a tank.


STATEMENT: Have a great day!
GENERIC ANSWER: Ung-koy (“okay”).
HONEST ANSWER: I would have liked it even better if I didn’t have to make small talk all the time.
LIE: It’s going to be a rocket-buster of a day!

Hair Masters and Introversion

WWE superstar Daniel Bryan is one lucky dude. He’s got main event status, he’s got a super hot wife, he’s got legions of adoring fans, but the one thing I will always be jealous over is his love of having long hair and a scraggly beard. In other words, he doesn’t have to spend any money at Hair Masters because he lets his hair grow out. I don’t have that kind of tolerance for my own hair whether it’s growing on my head or on my face. When it’s long, it needs to be buzzed to half an inch of hair or else it’ll annoy the shit out of me. I have fast-growing hair, so these appointments at Hair Masters happen once every two or three months.

And then once I get comfortable in that barber’s chair, the verbal diarrhea flies at a million miles an hour. As an introvert, I despise small talk. There’s no point to it, it’s mentally draining, and the extroverts who try to engage me in it don’t actually give two shits about the answers I give them. I suppose I could remedy this problem with my barbers by telling them I’m introverted, but that wouldn’t be socially appropriate, would it? Then again, caring what other people think of me isn’t one of my strong points. If I can make a bunch of giggly Texan women uncomfortable, I can do the same with my barbers. Here are a few of the stupid questions I’ve been asked at Hair Masters along with my awkward responses:

BARBER: What do you do?
ME: Nothing.
BARBER: Nothing?
ME: I’m unemployed.
BARBER: You’re just hanging around?
ME: I guess.

I’ve often contemplated giving the answer of “I work with homeless children in the Democratic Society of Who Gives a Fuck”, but that would probably be more awkward than telling the barber I don’t have a job. Susan suggested to me that I say I’m “In between jobs”, but I’m not since I don’t have an employment history. What am I supposed to do, lie? Anyways, continuing on with the conversations I’ve had…

BARBER: Are you doing anything fun today?
ME: No.
BARBER: Oh….What do you like to do for fun?
ME: Read and write.
BARBER: Oh cool! What do you like to write?
ME: A little bit of everything.

At this point, I wonder when my barber is going to figure out that my life isn’t that exciting. Apparently, they never do, so the bullshit keeps flying.

BARBER: Have you lived here all your life?
ME: No.
BARBER: Where are you from?
ME: Here. I just haven’t lived here all my life.
BARBER: Oh.

Unless you’re planning on coming over to my house and watching the WWE Network with me, you have no business asking me where I live. It’s irrelevant. It’s meaningless. But most of all, it’s bullshit!

BARBER: Are you excited for school?
ME: I don’t go to school.
BARBER: Are you home schooled?
ME: I’m 29 years old.
BARBER: Oh! Are you doing the college thing?
ME: I already graduated.
BARBER: Oh cool! What did you get your degree in?
ME: English.
BARBER: What are you doing with your degree?
ME: I’m trying to be an author.
BARBER: You know what would be cool? If you wrote a book about World War II.
ME: I’m not interested.

If this woman was any nosier than she already is, she would be a police bloodhound. What does she need this information for, anyways?! Is that that starved for WW2 literature that she needs to ask a complete stranger with no interest in history to write it for her?! Speaking of history…

BARBER: What would you recommend for me to read?
ME: What do you like?
BARBER: Historical fiction.
ME: I don’t read historical fiction, so I wouldn’t know.
BARBER: Oh, okay.

Actually, my answer wasn’t entirely true. The last piece of historical fiction I read was “The Sisters Brothers” by Patrick DeWitt. It’s a western, but I don’t think that’s what she had in mind. Besides, it didn’t come to me during the conversation, so I left it out.

BARBER: Do you have any brothers or sisters?
ME: I have an older brother.
BARBER: Did he get his English degree too?
ME: He got a pharmacy degree.
BARBER: Oh cool!
ME: Me and my brother don’t like the same things.
BARBER: Oh.

Jesus, woman, get your nose out of my ass already! I shouldn’t have to sit at my computer desk writing something other than a WW2 novel with a rectal donut on my seat cushion! Ugh! Anyways, after these boring conversations that don’t lead anywhere, I feel so mentally exhausted that I need a nap when I get home. When I pay my bill, I leave a five dollar tip regardless of how nosy the barber was. Hey, I got a good haircut and you can’t argue with a good haircut. Then again, it’s hard to fuck up a buzz cut with half an inch of hair remaining. Any asshole off of the streets can do it. Maybe I should get myself a Wahl clipper and forget the pointless banter altogether.

　

***LYRICS OF THE DAY***

“It’s a meaningless end to the story. Got no time for my forgotten glory. And now just when I know what I’m after, it just brings me to laughter. Just save up all your nickels and dimes. Let’s see what you’ll find and you’ll know. I guess I’m living day to day. Just hope that you get led astray. Hell yeah. I guess I’m living day to day. Hear what I say. I just died for a piece of the pie, but I’d be glad just to feast on the pie crust.”

-Love Among Freaks singing “Clerks”-