Because it has to be said…

Dear freakish creepy clowns.  My writing group gets together at the local Perkins because it cheep and it’s friendly, but I think a huge group a painted smiles is taking it a bit far.  I don’t have an issue with clowns perse.  I like going to the circus. I like parades.  I can usually handle watching them bend phallic shaped balloons into the rough equivalent of animal shapes.

<- These clowns are nothing like that.

They parade themselves around like perfectly normal people with cross dressing issues and the innate ability to make a child laugh…or cry.  They are sitting there laughing at their own jokes, sharing meal time conversation while sipping soda through a straw.   I totally get that I’m an “adult” and should realize that they are people to, but come on!! I’ve got my limits.

I found said limit when I walking back from the bathroom by myself (my fellow writing group was too chicken to go with me) and as one, a mass of yarn hair and creepy smiles turned to stare at me.  I know what they were doing;they wanted to know if I’d freak out or totally embarrass myself by asking for a picture (which I considered), but then it dawned on me- I was not the one in a costume.  How did I become the freak show?

Get some Noxzema, wipe that smirk off your face and get a real job.  There. I said it.

Before this post could go live, one my writing partners…we’ll call her the girl from insisted she wanted to get her picture taken with the clowns.   I was standing there anyways so I had my picture taken too.  Without further ado, here is a picture that will commemorate our time with the clowns at Perkins.

Thanks for the laughs and tears guys and gal.

Perkins- 1/17/2012


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