Road Trips and the Pie Correction

Ok, here is the thing Socket seekers.
I am going to try and explain what I feel when I go to a new place or have to meet new people.

Here is an example from today so you can understand how this stupid condition affects me. I promise it won't be long—who am I kidding? I have never been able to keep it short. So, brace yourself for a crazy ride.

I have a Mustang—have I mentioned it enough yet? I don't drive it much, mostly because of the gas prices and because I feel like my Jeep is the ultimate escape vehicle. You see, what I am always looking for when I go somewhere is a way to escape. Quick example from my non-old and decrepit years: I used to hate going to family reunions. Mostly it was because they were filled with family, but also because they would block me in and I would be trapped there the entire day. So, after I was old enough to choose not to go, I wouldn't.

Anyway, today was my monthly self-destructive trip to a distant bastion of Taco Bell breakfast. I was driving the Mustang, since mostly it just sits in the parking lot looking pretty, seeking out one of the last places that still serves a morning menu. It's across twenty of the world's most boring miles—unless you like staring at farmland for 25 minutes. I am seeking out a Sausage CrunchWrap; it has the right mix of soul-crushing sadness and cheese that makes for a great fast-food breakfast.

I was driving the Mustang because I need to drive it at least once a month to keep the battery charged up. It was, of course, sucking fumes from the tank like a 5-year-old trying to get the last sip of a milkshake. Ok, it actually had a quarter tank, but wasn't that a cool analogy?

Anyway, I saw the gas station across the street had no customers. This is super exciting for me, so I pulled in and started pumping the decomposed dinosaurs into the tank. Then, in pulls another person needing T-Rex juice. I thought about leaving, but they headed inside and didn't come back. He looked to be over 70, so I assume he had a prostate problem and headed straight to the bathroom to try and pee.

So, I continued fueling up and in pulled another car. I looked at the pump—I was at 8 gallons. Luckily, this person parked on the other side of the old man's truck, so they couldn't stare at me. I finished up and raced out of there.

That is what my mind does when I have to go anywhere in public. Notice I didn't go into a store and have to deal with in-person interaction. I just went to a self-service pump, and specifically the one all the way on the end where no one could get behind me. This is how screwed up I am.

Contrary to what television shows always portray, agoraphobia doesn't mean we can never leave our homes. We can leave. I just have to do it entirely on my own terms. I may never be able to go inside a retail store or stand around large groups of blood-sucking vultures—sorry, people. I meant people.

Well, if you haven't left this blog by now, you definitely need to rethink what that says about you and your decision-making abilities.

Since you are still reading, I need to clear some stuff up. In my previous post, I suggested you get pie when things go wrong. I stand by that, but it does come with downsides. First, for those not from the US, when I say pie, I mean the kind that is filled with fruit that will give you diabetes and regrets if you can't stop at one piece—and who can when they are alone? I do not mean the kind filled with meat. In the US, we call those Pot Pies. I have no idea who names stuff over here, but they really need to be fired.

So, here are the downsides. Did you know they make pie out of weeds? I think they call it rhubarb. Yep, a weed that grows wild. And you know what else? You can't tell what it is until you bite into it. These sick people hide it under a crust so it looks like something tasty. Also, did you know that a lot of the fruit we use has cyanide in it? Yep, it's slowly killing you. You're welcome, pie lovers.

Then there is the worst of all: Pecan Pie. The world's most bland-tasting nut floating on a brown goo that is entirely sugar and butter. Yep, this is a guaranteed path to diabetes.

So, with all that new information, I still stand by my recommendation. Yes, you may have to face a diabetic amputation, and yes, you will feel bad about yourself for losing control. But dammit, it's delicious, and isn't that all that matters? I mean, you were born with two legs—do you really need them both? Think how good you will be at jumping rope.

Useless Recap

• Taco Bell, what gives? You can't make breakfast easier to obtain?
• Crunch Wraps are worth the drive.
• Pecan pie is just brown goo with nuts.
• Rhubarb is a weed; stop eating weeds.

Disclaimer: I have already said this, Taco Bell. Please don't sue me; I am mostly made of your grease and hot sauce.