And you’re not surprised. A hint would be that I have a blog with over a hundred posts, right?

Yeah.

So, I left the house again last night — always a big mistake. This time, instead of spending an entire, horrible showing of RHPS sitting near a college library, playing sudoku on my DS, and being asked directions by the bastard lovechildren of K-Fed and a your standard hollow interior door, I went to a birthday party for someone I know.

That went over well — and, actually, I have no idea how anyone else at the party felt about me. I don’t really care, either. This is about me, here.

And, about me — I noticed that I don’t like to make eye contact last night. Especially with new people. And handshakes? Instantly trigger a greeting response. I’m not sure why.

So, um…yeah. Let that be a warning, or whatever. If you hold out your hand for me to shake, I will instantly make a greeting-type noise, while not looking at you at all.

…and then you’ll probably lose your hand to whatever horrible flesh-eating bacteria I happen to be covered with that day.

No, really. It’s best to just never touch me. I’m icky, and covered with germs. So are you, for that matter, but there’s nothing to be done about that.