Criminal Profiling

I lie to myself. So do you. You, just like me, hate to admit that you stereotype people. I'm right, aren't I? Don't worry about it, we all do. And, if you want, you can do what I do. Instead of stereotyping, which sounds mean and terrible, I pretend I'm a criminal profiler. See how much better that sounds? Fun too. Let me give you an example:

 I got on the bus a few days ago and I immediately knew that I had made the mistake of sitting across from THOSE girls. You know the ones. 

Not as innocent as they look.

I tried my hardest not to stare but you can only avert your gaze for so long, like when you're driving past someone who's been pulled over. Your eyes are drawn to them and to make matters worse they are talking far too loudly for you to ignore. It's obvious to you that there is no good reason for them to be having such a loud and obtrusive conversation as not a single other person on the bus is talking. Not one! In fact, if you look closely, almost all the other passengers are trying and failing to avert their gaze and hide the shame they're feeling for being so engrossed in their conversation, too. At this point, in between quick glances, I began "profiling" them. Both girls looked rather young. (A relative thing, I suppose, since I'm only going on 22.) I would have pegged them as high schoolers but they had gotten on at the university same as me, I believe. The one on the left had on very subtle make-up. Silver eyeshadow. Blush. Her face and hair looked well maintained but her shirt was hiked up just far enough to show a saggy or chubby stomach. I wasn't sure which. It looked like, to me, that she had had a baby. But she looked so young, I figured she hadn't. She was probably just chubby. Ah, but I could still hear their conversation. Wait, did she just mention her daughter? This girl that looked no more than seventeen had in fact mentioned her daughter. So, I was right! Aha! See, not stereotyping. Not being creepy. Being an accurate profiler. Win.

But, really, they were annoying. I wanted to say they were stereotypical high schoolers that don't just think they're better than everyone else they KNOW. I caught the girl on the right staring at me. I knew for a fact I'd had more attractive days. I hadn't showered, I had left-over make-up on, and I was wearing an old sweater.

Honestly, I didn't look this bad that day. This was my witch-dressed-like-a-muggle costume for the last  HP midnight premier. I looked this bad at the premier.

But even still, I didn't deserve THAT look. I know you know that look.

Honestly, it was this or a picture of John McCain.

 Maybe you've given it, maybe you've received it. It's a horrible look. The one that makes you feel like the dirtiest, ugliest person in the onlookers vicinity. If I'd tried to look nice, I'd have been more offended, but I really hadn't tried that morning so it didn't bug me too much. THEY were probably stereotyping me. I could see the judgment in her eyes as she looked me over. Apparently, she had no problem with stereotyping but I will continue to "profile".


That isn't too big of a deal though, I mean, it's in public!  To an extent you can say just about anything you want in public, which is exactly how these people get away with opening their mouths and drooling out all the pointless thoughts that come to mind.  Once upon a time, for example, whilst sitting in the central eatery on  campus I was witness- nay- part of an amazing conversation with someone who never should have sat down with us in the first place.  For some godsawful reason we were discussing the way in which he "lost" his virginity.  Our new acquaintance seemed to be confused as to what constituted as actually losing your virginity, and in my humble opinion he hadn't come close enough to be as nervous and proud as he seemed to be.  The shocking. teary-eyed confession came from his lips like words spoken from a 15th century friar:

We're not sure what century this friar is from, but I think the cell phone is a fair indicator...

"And after a merry evening, just when I fancied that the night was drawing to a close, the maiden let me drink of her chalice."  Chalice.  It took a moment before we recognized that he was politely announcing his first time going down on a girl- followed by our silent, palpable horror.


Again, though, this is not too terribly offensive.  As soon as one hears an approaching disaster- "Last night my level 60 Paladin-" or "The milk went SO sour that by the time I found it in the back of the fridge it smelled like my grandma's c-" or "I'm more of a grower than a show-er, if ya catch my drift..."- one can simply leave the affected area.  Having said that, the worst time to face this type of person(s) is when sitting in class.
Here we are at the first day back to school at my university.  I have bright hopes and high expectations of myself this semester, and luckily my Monday schedule goes by with a breeze.  Tuesday rolls around and it's the last class of the day now, I sit in the middle of the room in the T Zone like a good girl and await the start of class.  Everyone files in and amidst the shuffle the teacher enters. Not only does That Guy correct the teacher on what name he would actually like to go by, but he proceeds to take up valuable class time by explaining why he is going to spend the entire semester going by a totally different name than the first, middle, and last name that are on the roll sheet.


This is only one way in which That Guy can be  identified.  Other ways include:


*Telling Professor which books he should read. During class. While he's lecturing.


*Sitting in the back so they can People Watch, though clearly squinting because they are just now refusing to wear glasses.


*Taking out a computer on the first day- when the only thing that will happen for sure is going to be roll and handing out the reading list and syllabus.


*Assuming that since class starts at eleven, it's totally cool to take out their snacks- sandwich, apple, unopened soda, chips, cold spaghetti from last night...


*Raising their hand first to answer any question- and even if the  question is answered correctly by someone else- continuing to hold their hand up; they have a specific way of holding their hand which is either only the pointer finger up (in a manner of silently saying that this will take but a moment of your time, but you will inevitably regret it) or (for anyone who has seen Inglorious Basterds) the correct way to display the number three in German until Professor (who is clearly hiding his displeasure and has resumed lecturing) acknowledges them and listens to what they have to say despite the fact that since the question was answered and all That Guy has to say now is his opinion of the first dudes answer.


If this person doesn't sound familiar, just wait.  Someday you will be in line at the Post Office and wonder why the line is so long.  Looking forward to the person at the counter you will witness an oddly dressed old man saying something that's close to but not necessarily: 

Words fail me.

"But of course when I was a youngin' the stamps cost a nickel and you had to lick 'em yerself.  The worse bit was that during the war we had to give up all our scrap metal, and someone thought it would be helpful to turn in a certain metal box that was painted blue- get it?- the town mail box!  Now, we had ourselves a pickle, ya see, since we had no way of telling anyone that we needed a new mail box because the very same wise guy-" 


"Sir, was there anything else I can help you with today?"


"I am a woman, Miss, and I'd like to make a withdrawal."


"Sorry, Ma'am... the mustache was misleading. And, sorry again, this isn't a bank."


"I waited in line for twenty minutes, and I still won't get my cash?  Where am I?"


That Guy is the sort to think that even though YOU have a Doctorate in German, they still knows more about the 3rd Reich than you because That Guy has the History Channel.

If you laughed at this you are a douche.
I laughed.

That Guy is the one who stands at the counter at the grocery store and pays for his 9 items with a check.

I have just been informed that this is a woman.  Again, misleading mustache.

That Guy is the person who opens his mouth and the sound of his know-it-all, disparaging voice makes you want to fall into a dumpster full of shredded paper in the hopes that with enough paper cuts, perhaps your ears will fall off.

Make sure you watch out for Oscar the Grouch; he's known to carry a shiv.

See? There is no need to stereotype. We all know who these people are but it is so much more entertaining to profile them. Annoying voice: check! Unwashed hair: check! Squinting at professor: check! Practice and soon you'll be a "better" person for not stereotyping people. *wink*

We can't justifiably judge anyone, though, because THIS is what we do on the weekends for fun.
Well, THAT or: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tDk9n18NCR8&feature=sub