I'm not talking about the pantyhose color

Cold hard truth: Boring people exist.
Another cold hard truth: You can't avoid them. No matter how hard you try.

I was lucky for a while. My weird parents ("We are not weird!" my mother's voice shrieks in my head) always had interesting friends for the most part. I grew up as a weird child, and naturally that attracts some unique individuals who are either drawn to you or vice versa. I was involved in theater from a young age, so I constantly had a healthy dose of "colorful" people in my life. This is where I first encountered homeschoolers. Enough said.

 It wasn't until high school that my eyes were opened, and what stood before me was a being unlike any I had ever seen before. A boring person. A Beige* if you will. Beige's are sneaky. They don't talk much, so you think they're all shy at first, so you make it a point to get to know them. It's a trap, don't do it! They lure you in on the pretense of mystery, then once the door has shut, you realize that they just don't have anything to say about anything. At all. Mystery solved, and you are the winner of a Beige friend.

I had a Beige friend in high school that my mom made me hang out with, and for a while, things weren't so bad. She laughed at everything I had to say. She never disagreed with me. We never argued! Then one day, as I finished telling her an apparently hilarious story, I looked up and saw her laughing with the blankest look on her face and it hit me: she's a Beige. Well, I didn't say that in my head. I just came up with that term all of 10 minutes ago. Focus, people. What I did say to myself was, "OH MY GOD SHE'S BORING. SHE'S SO BORING. RUN. RUN NOW BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE." Sadly, I was in class, so I had to continue sitting there, but everything had changed. It all became so clear. We had never had an actual conversation, just monologues, she had no personal opinions about anything which made it hard to disagree on issues, and even though I love people laughing at my witty repartee, I am aware that not everything I have to say are gems. Just ask my boss.

Even worse is when you realize that adults you have known for some time are also boring. That hurts, man. I was raised to respect adults in my life, and it is SO HARD to do so when you have a frozen look of horror mixed with pity on your face as they tell you the most mundane story EVER.** Their houses smell of canned green beans and defeat. You want to save their children from their own boring fate, but it's too late. They're already staring at walls with adoration in their eyes. "How do I get to that state?"

Thankfully, I know very few Beige's, but it feels like a lot when you have constant contact with them. I once experienced a grouping of them in a bar, it was pathetic. They all just sat around and waited for someone to begin a topic of conversation. Oh, and it was St. Patrick's Day. Yes, Anna Lisa, I'm talking about your friends. The effect was overwhelming. Too many Beige's in one room and I start to have a panic attack.

As fun-sucking as they are, boring people were put on this earth for a reason. Someone needs to work complacently in cubicles. That's the only reason I could think of. What did the cavemen do with Beige's? Use them as bait to lure animals out of hiding? They probably just remained in the caves inventing math. I do know that this is not chronologically correct, that math was probably invented by brighter versions of humans, but I didn't say that I was a genius. Just ask my mom. All I have to say is this: I may be a little slow, but at least I'm not boring.


*FYI I'm calling boring people Beige's from now on. Spread the word, it will catch on, but you must credit me with the coining of the name.

**These stories are not to be confused with animal stories. Although not great conversation on say, a first date, they are still kind of awesome to hear unless the teller of the story refers to said animal as "My furbaby." Even if this phrase is uttered, it is still not a boring story. Just pure craziness. And still better than a boring story.

Notes from my Netflix

Dear Angela,
We get it. You like comedy. Hows 'bout we round out your viewing palate and get some classics in there for ya? Oh, wait, you do have the classics in your instant queue! I misjudged-and now you're choosing Veronica Mars over Butch Cassidy and the Sundance Kid. Niiiiice. Let me know how that works out for ya. I'm shortening "you" so you understand how sarcastic I can be. I think it's stupid, but Boris in shipping says that you, excuse me, ya wouldn't get that when it's on paper. Boris is an idiot, but apparently, so are ya.

Hey now, don't get upset. I'm just here to remind you of the reason why you signed up for Netflix in the first place! I believe it was because you have seen very little of cinematic masterpieces out there and wanted to, at the very least be sure of who said "You can't handle the truth!"

Ok, and now The Pianist is disc-only! It was on your queue for months! MONTHS! I don't understand how you can ignore such a magnificent film like that. Well, yes, it is about WWII and kind of a downer, but well worth it-
     REALLY? Beauty and the Briefcase? It's a LIFETIME MOVIE for god's sake! According to your preferences, I am going to tell you now for sure that you will hate it. You won't even get past the opening credits! Go and watch An Education, you'll regret it less. No? Ok, it's your funeral-yeah I was right. You lost interest 10 minutes in. Now go and watch-Stop adding more smart movies to your queue! You'll never watch them!

Ok, that's it! Boris told me to end the letter here but I just can't stand it anymore! You want to be pandered to? Well, here are your suggestions! Frank Caliendo stand up! What do you think about that? Grown ups! What a gem of a movie! The Roast of William Shatner! How much are you hating this right now? SPINAL TAP-wait, that's a good one, how did that get in here? Goddamn it Boris.
You don't even understand how badly I am mocking you right now Angela! I hate your guts! It's people like you who don't deserve to own a Netflix subscription! I hate my job!

Dearest Angela,
We would like to express our sincerest apologies for the previous letter. As of today, that employee no longer is with us. And that is in no way, shape, or form your fault. Yes, it is true that the moment he discontinued his rant he proceeded to attack fellow Netflix employee Boris Vander Ark, throw him into a supply closet and hold him for ransom, but there was truly no way you could have seen that coming. I thought he was going to throw himself off the roof of our building. I was partially right. Once we had him surrounded he headed for the stairs. Someone on the 23rd floor apprehended him, so he just jumped out of one of their windows. I don't know why I'm explaining this to you in great detail. Oh yes, Boris said you had a right to know. Near-death experience or not, I really hate that guy.
So, continue to enjoy your Netflix service. Feel free to watch whatever you want. Aside from the deceased employee, no one cares about your preferences-seriously? Party Down yet again? You've already watched that four times already! God you're hopeless. The Jerk won't be available after the 6th! Watch that instead!

Sincerely ashamed of you,
Netflix