Things have been tolerable on the fucktard front lately. It’s one reason I haven’t posted in awhile. But something weird happened again to me today that forced me to write. This is a true story, the names have be changed but alas it is true. I couldn’t make this crap up if I tried.

I have to set the story up so you must know 2 things.

First, I am a freak magnet. I attract them like flies to shit. They spot me anywhere I might be, they talk to me because somehow I "look" like someone who gives a damn about their rambling nonsense. They find me, they always like me, and I always say that I am never leaving the house again because of it.

Second, I am a horror film fanatic to the ninth degree. I’m not a crazy escaped mental patient; but I do like to watch them kill a bunch of fucktards on tv. Call it a "fantasy". My home and life are normal except for my game room. That’s where I store the collection of movies and have a few other weird collectibles. Most people who are not expecting this find it to be "charming", or at least that’s what they say. At the very least it becomes a conversation.

On to the story.

I hate having "workmen" of any sort come to my home when my husband is not here. (see reason #1) They talk to me and they are always freaks. When my husband is home, they talk to him, but since he is a man they discuss the work they are doing. Me being a female means they have to find something else to say, and that just causes a door to open that I don’t want.

Today a workman fucktard came over for a reason that is irrelevant. He needed to plug in a saw down in my basement so I led him down the steps into my game room of "horrors". I happened to look behind me to see him do a double take at my collection of Living Dead Dolls, and I laughed.

"Oh don’t freak out, my husband and I just love horror films". I said

"Oh its ok, I think I was here before." He responded.

Uneventful the topic should be done now. Right? No. Not with a fucktard. I showed him where to plug in his saw, and just before he was heading out to the truck to get it this conversation happened.

"You know it’s not the horror stuff that freaks me out in people’s houses. You know what really scares me is the Catholics". He said.

"uh…… oh, I see", I said in shock.

"Yeah they have all those creepy looking statues and pictures on the wall". He said with a straight face.

"Yeah". I said.

"Yeah and the other houses I hate to go into are the Arabs". He said as he walked out the basement door.

I thought about telling him I was a Catholic and my husband was from Arab decent just to fuck with his mind, but then I thought better of it. He obviously didn’t have much of one. Instead I went up stairs and hid from him. I couldn’t wait to get the freak out of my house. WTF!