Other posts related to population
Am I being paranoid, or do the locals here really do want to cut me up with rusty razors?
Lincoln Adams | November 11, 2009 @ 11:47 pmSince I’ve been putting myself “out there,” especially when it comes to geocaching, I have so far:
- Been chased by the police
- Been chased by dogs
- Gotten poison ivy rashes all over me
- Stepped on doggie doo (this in an area where dogs aren’t allowed)
- Picked up fossilized horsey poo thinking they were rocks
- May have possibly gotten swine flu (I’m getting a sore throat now)
…and probably a few other things I can’t remember because I’ve repressed the memory.
But on the upside, during the times I’ve traveled far and away from home, I’ve beheld some truly magnificent scenery, which would include the women who somehow wind up in my hotel room for one reason or another. 
Indeed, the more I travel and get away from it all, the more I realize just how strikingly different people are in other towns and states, and the more I suspect that the locals here really are out to get me.
Not that people weren’t rude or obnoxious elsewhere too. There were a few times in Pennsylvania where drivers would be UP MY TRAILER HITCH because I had the audacity to be in their way (though in retrospect I think it was because of my New York plates and the fact that the Phillies were turning into world class losers, tee hee.)
But generally, the atmosphere was remarkably different from what I’m used to. Everyone was always so… nice.
When I was at a buffet I remember walking up to get a plate, then turned around and happened to notice a girl, who just out of the blue gives me this heartwarming smile as she passed by. I was so taken aback that all I could manage to do was smile back, right before I ran back to my table and kept my head down low, wondering what crazy Twilight Zone episode I had just been teleported to. Women? Smiling at me? When things like that happen I can’t help but look out the window to see if I can spot the Four Horsemen.
Then there was the time when I was still in Lake Placid, I went to a BBQ restaurant and the waitress who took my order was just too nice for words. She actually wanted to keep talking to me but got called away, and to be honest, even if we hadn’t been interrupted, I wouldn’t have known what to do with it. WHY ARE YOU BEING SO NICE TO ME OMG IT’s FREAKING ME OUT!!!111
And then with Hotel Girl, who not only smiled, but also seemed content to be within kissable distance of me. I’m the type who gets exceptionally nervous when anyone breaches my personal perimeter of 6 feet, because I’ve gotten used to the idea that I am a rather repulsive human being that nobody would want to be within 2 yards of anyway. But then things like this happen, and I can’t help but wonder if maybe I was simply born in the wrong place.
Because what happens is, eventually when I’m done with my travels, I come… home. 
And that’s when day quickly becomes night, and I have an opportunity to compare and contrast what I see here from what I see “out there.”
I noticed it right away when I went down to Panera Bread for a lunch or two a day after I got back from Pennsylvania. Women in particular do not look at me at all. I absolutely do not register on their radar, and for those rare times I do, good grief, the looks I would get. Steely, stony looks of pure, unadulterated hatred. Looks that say “How DARE you pollute the air I breathe with your existence!” Whereas the girl at that buffet gave me a smile as if I had made her day just by being there, these locals instead give me the kind of dirty looks typically reserved for mass murderers or people who like to kick puppies for fun.
I always thought it was because something was seriously wrong with me. I’m undesirable, I’m ugly, I can’t even get a girl to crack a polite smile because I am just that putrid and repugnant and disgusting. But then I travel just a little bit out of my safety zone and wow, what a difference even a mere 2 hour drive can make.
It’s a new experience to come in contact with a population that doesn’t seem to want you violently torn apart and shredded in a woodchipper. I wonder then if the reason it’s been so hard for me to find a nice girl is because she isn’t in fact, here, but “out there.”
Ah well, just something I’ve been pondering over as I try to fight back this growing soreness in my throat. Gees, as if the poison ivy wasn’t enough. 
Well, if I do get sick, blogging will be obviously be light until I get better, so if you don’t hear from me for a bit, I’m probably on my deathbed and like, dying and stuff.
Tags: buffet, culture shock, friendly, geocaching, girl, lake placid, new york, nice, Pennsylvania, poison ivy, population, restaurant, travel, travels, women
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
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It’s a Small Internet After All
Lincoln Adams | June 18, 2008 @ 7:17 pmOne billion people on the Internet, 250 million from North America alone, and I yet I keep running into the same people over and over again. Which is bad enough unto itself, but on top of that they had to be ugly too. Really ugly. Bat droppings ugly.
Nowhere is this more evident than when I sign up for oh, about 30 different dating sites or so, and yet somehow, it’s always the same crowd of girls. Literally. (Hey didn’t I see your profile on Match.com? Good grief, get away from me you skanky ho!)
I’m sure they’re thinking the same thing when they see my profile for the umpteenth time, so I guess it all evens out there. 
But man, come on. 250 million Internet surfers, and I can’t simply disappear into the crowd here? Nope, I get the same bloody lot of dweebs burrowing up my righteous coochies every which way I surf, stinking up all my favorite online watering holes, and there’s simply no way I can avoid them, a conundrum that leaves some of them absolutely convinced that I’m stalking them.
“Oh no, it’s that Lincoln again, he’s always following me around! What a freak!!”
Bite me. I was here first you sniveling, whiny– 
Ah well. My only solace is that I am just as much a boil on their cooties as they are on mine.
Tags: dating, dating sites, demographics, internet, online, population, stalking, users, world
Categories: Lincoln's Personal Log
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