The Social Retard

It’s easy to scare off girls.

Just tell them an incest joke.

This is how I roll.

Red Sox tickets went on sale recently. This is HUGE news in Red Sox Nation (I live in New England)…and reminded me WHY I don’t buy them.

I can’t get any…

...they're IMPOSSIBLE to get...

...as “Red Sox Nation” is absolutely f*cking crazy...

...and all games are sold out within 10 or 20 seconds.


Plus, I can only afford "Standing Room."

Unfortunately, I can’t do “Standing Room” – as “standing room” when you’re five feet tall is equivalent to sitting on the floor.


This is why I wait for people who have tickets to invite me.

Like my buddy, Rob…

...who sponges tickets from his dad who has season seats at Fenway.


Last year, Rob invited me to a game.

I was psyched.

..this tends to piss off Mrs. Moooooog35, as she is also a devout follower of the Red Sox...

...and hates to see me happy.

I KID!! I KID!!

I'd be pissed too if she got to go to a game and I didn't.

(okay...I think I have that bullet dodged)


Love ya, hon!

Anyway…

So Rob and I get to the game.

Now, my buddy Rob is a HUGE extrovert.

He’s friendly. VERY friendly.

He has something in common with EVERYBODY.

Sample conversation:

Weird guy on street with knife: “Hey…give me twenty bucks!”

Rob: “Whoa! Whoa!" (pointing at knife): "Hey...is that a multi-tool?”

Weird guy: “Yeah. It is. And I'm going to SLICE YOU UP WITH IT unless you give me...”

Rob: “No kidding! I have a multi-tool myself. Hey…in fact, when I was homeless, I used my multi-tool to create all kinds of cool additions to my refrigerator-box house.”

Weird guy: "Really? Please explain!"
…this conversation would go on for three f*cking hours and eventually the homeless guy would buy Rob lunch.


…I have no idea how he does it.

Anyway…we’re at the game, and Rob sees someone he knows (as he knows everyone).

As such, he leaves me.

Alone.

At the game.

By myself.

For, like, 45 minutes.

Asshole.

Thanks for the invite.


During this time, I’m scanning the crowd, and watching two girls hop around from seat to seat near me.

They’re both HAMMERED.

Eventually, one of them stumbles over and takes up a seat right behind me.

Out of the blue, she taps me on the shoulder.

“Hey,” she says…”Wanna hear a joke?”

“Sure,” I say.

Here’s her joke:

***
Her: What’s better than winning the Special Olympics?

Me: I don't know. What's better than winning the Special Olympics?

Her: Not being retarded.
***

(ba dum bum)

Don't get mad at me, I didn't write the f*cking thing.

But I laughed because it was funny and I'd never heard it.

This doesn't happen often. As I usually only laugh at jokes I tell.


I decide to return the favor and tell HER a joke.

…this is where my social skills fall a wee-bit short…

Me: “Wanna hear my joke?”

Her: “Sure.”

Me: “It’s BAD. Sure you want to hear it?”

Her: “Yes. Tell it.”

(WARNING: THIS IS A DIRTY, DISGUSTING JOKE…PROCEED AT YOUR OWN RISK)

Here’s the joke I told her:

****
A girl comes home one Saturday afternoon, and walks into her family room where her father is watching TV.

She asks, “Dad, can I borrow the car tonight to go out?”

Her dad looks at her, and points to his pants.

“Sure,” he says, “if you blow me first.”

“DAD!!” the girl screams. She runs to her room.

A little while later, she calms down and goes to ask again.

“Dad, I really would like to borrow the car tonight,” she asks again.

“Then blow me,” he says.

She runs away…crying…into her room.

The phone rings a little while later. It’s her friend telling her that she HAS to go to this party.

Hanging up the phone, she goes back downstairs.

“Dad,” she says, “I really, really need to use the car tonight. Please?”

He looks at her, and points to his crotch.

“Then you know what to do,” he says to her.

She huffs, “Fine.”

She drops to her knees, unzips his pants, and takes out his penis.

“GOD…DAD!” she yells, waving at her nose. “Your dick smells like shit!”

He pauses a second, thinks, smacks his forehead and says:

“Oh, I forgot. Your brother has the car tonight.”
***



The joke over, I look at the girl.

*cricket*

She looks at me.

Emotionless.

*blink*

Then...

She stands up...

...and she leaves.

Not a word to me.

Not a word to anyone else.

She just...leaves.

..she moves three rows up to an empty seat…

...apparently still in shock.

I’m back alone...

...ready to scare away the next contestant.


This is the man my wife married.

I’m sure she shakes her head every day trying to figure out why.

..it’s got to be my looks.

Either that, or the way I crack incest jokes and socialize with strangers.

It's one or the other.

I'm leaning toward the jokes.