An Unobstructed View Of Fur-Lined Unconsciousness
February 2, 2011

This gratuitous post is designed only to appeal to my sense of depressed wonderment at the irreparable stupidity of others and to those that experience similar dismay.

I had nearly forgotten taking the above photograph, and the stupidity behind it, until sorting through pictures I’d taken on my recent visit home to New Hampshire. Truth be told, I was mostly sorting through pictures of my penis wearing various funny hats and deciding which ones were worth keeping vs. deleting, but in the process I came upon some NH pics I’d forgotten I’d taken - most of which were depth illusion photographs of my penis hanging over the vacant ledge of Cannon Mountain where the Old Man of the Mountain’s face used to be. That said; allow me to detail the circumstances surrounding this image.

I took the photo while attending my nieces’ gymnastics practice. I know - exhilarating. Just so it’s understood, I had to lean back and hold the camera against my own chest so that the old bitch would actually be in the shot. Otherwise, it would have been a furry blackout. Anyway, in this wide-open facility, there is a generous area inside the door where helicopter parents, braindead grandmothers, and uncles with websites can sit and watch practice. There’s a stack of plastic patio chairs and plenty of space in which to spread them so that no one is obstructing the view of another. The group of onlookers is particularly small, providing a virtually limitless landscape in which one could station oneself to achieve an optimal view of the children displaying their lack of fine motor skills. I take a chair and station myself against the wall, not close to any of the few onlookers, and do my best to not look like a pedophile as no one has seen me here before… and because I’m an otherwise vocal member of the National Sex Offender Registry.

Shortly after settling in and beginning to figure out which kids belonged to which adults, and how emotionally crippled each would be based on their parent’s behavior, an older lass, who I assume is one of the gymnasts’ grandmother - though, based on her actions, is more likely a diagnosable lunatic unaware of her own whereabouts and unrelated to any gymnast, enters the premises, heads in my direction, and plucks a chair from the stack. She then, despite there being no other human being - or inanimate object - within seven feet of me in any direction, places the chair directly - look at that photograph: I mean di-fucking-rectly - in front of me and, en route to the seated position, offers a half-hearted, “You don’t mind if I sit here, do you?”

“Hah.”

Okay, old lady, I’ve given you your obligatory “hah,” the gag is kind of funny in that I didn’t see it coming from an old bag like you, but the moment has passed, so why are you still sitting all but in my lap?

Haha. This is getting uncomfortable. In the moment it took me to think the previous thought, this has become exponentially more uncomfortable. …Aaaaand this has just become, undisputedly, the most awkward situation I have ever experienced in twenty-nine years of existence, which includes being tricked into receiving a health physical I didn’t need as a teen where the doctor, who was wearing women’s shoes, laid me on my back and held my penis (sans funny hat) against my stomach as though it was planning to strap itself down across my nutsack and prevent Dr. Creepytouch from properly gaining access to them for the cough portion of the exam. And the day, shortly thereafter, when the same doctor moved in three houses down the street.

Holy shit. This old lady isn’t joking. “You don’t mind if I sit here” was not asked in jest. She’s actually sitting there. Is this real? Am I hallucinating? What do I do? Do I simply relocate and continue watching practice as though everything’s fine? Do I ask her nicely if she would mind relocating her chair to a spot other than inside my eyeballs? Do I try to wake up from this dream? Do I cannibalize her?

No. I sit tight. Because this just transitioned from the most awkward situation of my life to the actual funniest predicament in which I’ve ever been involved. Now that I’ve had a moment to process the douche chills through my system, it’s escalated from awkward to awesome. I think I’m the only person in this facility now who’s not creeped out by the spatial relationship between Granny Eclipse and myself. Maybe that’s because I could literally penetrate her without moving an inch despite not having an inch of my own to spare, and her vulnerability amuses me. Maybe I should do it, just to teach her old ass a lesson. Or maybe that’s just what she wants, and my doing so would only reward her cockamamie behavior, giving her the confidence to sit directly on the face of the next twenty-something fellow she meets. I’d better stop thinking these thoughts because if the Little Hulkster even twitches beneath my jeans, this elderly human blinding device is going to know about it. At least none of the instructors or kids are creeped out, though - from their vantage point, I’m not even here. Although my niece might be alarmed at my apparent disappearance. Or at least wondering how the hell she’s gonna get home. Either way, no one to our right or left has any idea that the hood of this woman’s coat is lined with fur because, from their vantage point, it appears to be my unkempt mustache.

I think this was the most intimate hour of my life. If asked if I’m in a relationship, I would feel compelled to say “yes” based on this experience. All I could offer in a description of my significant other is that she’s hairy, purpley, and way into gymnastics and illogical seating arrangements, but what more does one need?

I’m sure my readers would prefer this to have been a running diary of elementary schoolgirl gymnastics practice, and I would love to have been able to provide you with all the fascinating details of slow motion front rolls and failed handstands, but, as is evidenced by the picture, the only motion I saw was that of imitation fur hairs caught in the ventilation crosswinds. To avoid being labeled shortsighted, I will say that, as much as I loathe stupidity, I count my blessings that it exists, because without the distraction of other’s imbecilic actions, things like watching children’s gymnastics would be like… watching children’s gymnastics. Still, a 98% reduction in the stupidity rate would leave no short supply.

I can't rationally caption this.