I’m A Total Moron, And I Might Be Borderline Retarded

Ever had one of those moments where you realized as you were talking that the comment to which you were currently responding was the logical end to the conversation, and that your incredibly detailed response was now becoming one of the most loathsome things that’s happened in this poor stranger’s day so far? Anyone? No? Must just be me then.

In fact, this very thing did happen to me a couple of weeks ago at a private event at which I was setting up to perform. One of the extremely polite servers at the restaurant hosting the event had come up to me while I was setting up and said, “Are you the band?” To which I said, “I am in fact.”

“Oh, well what kind of music do you play?” She asked.

“Well it’s mostly all fun, upbeat, super happy, super cheesy, wedding-singery covers that people like to get drunk and dance to.”

“Oh, that sounds fun!” She said. You must really enjoy doing this for a living.”

What came out of my mouth next was the most drawn out, negative, redundant, embarrassingly unnecessary response to a polite statement made by a total stranger that anyone has ever let slip out of their face-hole in the history of language.

I went on for what seemed like 10 whole minutes about how “it’s a lot harder than you would think,” and how “sometimes I just get so burnt out on playing some of these songs,” and how “I’ve recently taken a day job so I could cut back on the number of times per week I had to gig in order to survive,” and on, and on, and blah blah blah blah blah.

And while all these things are flying out of my mouth, I realize that this is the most drawn out, negative, redundant, embarrassingly unnecessary response to a polite statement made by a total stranger that anyone has ever let slip out of their face-hole in the history of language. And I see the stranger growing ever more uncomfortable with every passing second. I see her looking over her shoulder for some excuse to bail. I can see little thoughts forming inside her brain: “Oh, I should probably get busy with my side work.” Or, “I should probably let you finish setting up.” Yet all the while these words just keep shooting right out of my trap. I just keep thinking to myself, “Reel it in there, partner!” But the end seems to NEVER come.

Now how is it possible for my brain to be able to telepathically read her thoughts, while also having self-awareness enough to fully understand the situation at hand, while also maintaining its own inner dialog sidebar about such without interrupting the flow of speech being directed at this poor stranger, but it lacks the ability to simply make my mouth stop moving and resolve the situation before all hope is lost?

And that’s when I realized, I’m a total moron, and I might be borderline retarded.

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