I’m sure most of you can relate to those awkward post-2020 interactions, such as painful small talk with a barista or a Freudian slip over Zoom with a peer, as well as the obligatory bashful explanation that inevitably follows such interactions: “Ah, quarantine right? I don’t know how to talk to people anymore, haha!”
However, if we were to approach this issue critically, it seems like there is no way to determine whether quarantine is truly the cause behind our shared social plight or if we are actually, at our core, really fucking weird. Fret not, dear reader, for this handy guide is here to help you differentiate between a bad social streak and being a permanent freak!
Ordering at Restaurants
Bad Social Streak: Sometimes simply ordering food can make you want to dissipate into a fine mist that never reassumes a human form. However, if you say, “You too!” when the waiter wishes you a nice meal, or if you pronounce “Filet Mignon” like “Fill-et Mig-nun”, those are the marks of temporary social faux-pas.
Permanent Freak: Pissing your pants, like a little pee-pee bitch baby. Oh yeah? You just looove pissing your pants, huh? How about you sit in your disgusting little wet pants and think about what you’ve done, you pathetic fucking worm.
Bumping into a Friend in Public
Bad Social Streak: We’ve all been there; do you say hello and make terribly awkward small talk about what they’re doing and where they’re going, or do you bow your head and pretend you didn’t see them? If you do end up making the wrong choice by stopping to say hi, the occasional lapse in conversation while you both stare at your shoes is perfectly normal and a typical sign of a bad social streak.
Permanent Freak: Look at all that fucking piss running down your leg, you filthy cumbucket. How about you crawl over here and lick Mommy’s boot, you gross little freak? You’re good for nothing except pissing your fucking pants and you know it, don’t you?
Going to a Work Party
Bad Social Streak: Work parties are right up there with in-law dinner parties and middle-school dances as some of the worst parties ever, and they’re often made worse by the combination of watered-down office sangria and the fact that you hate all of your coworkers. With all of this in mind, the occasional forgotten name (“Oh you’re Gary? I’m so sorry, I thought your name was Larry!”) or a drunken conversation with your boss can be excused as just a bad social streak.
Permanent Freak: Yeah, lick it up you little fucking slut. Lick it all up. I know you’re fucking thirsty; you’re always wanting more, aren’t you? You better not stop ‘till you can see your reflection in this fucking floor or you’ll have to take your punishment lying down, you worthless piss-baby.
Hopefully this guide has illustrated the slight, but crucial differences between a post-quarantine slip-up and being an inherent fuck-up! Now go out there, have fun, and be safe! Or don’t, because you may be a menace to society.
Miss Informed wants to clarify that this article is a joke and she does not have any morbid kinks that she acts out in public.
A version of this article appeared on p. 13 of the Sept. 30, 2021 print edition of the Daily Nexus.