that t-shirt looks sane to me...

I'm hardly a music buff and am generally about 20 years behind everyone else in terms of what I think is fabulous. Christ, last summer was all about "Man in the Mirror" for me and Mel. But on occasion, I get hot on something random, like my current loves of Sam Sparro and Ladyhawke. I listen to this shit all day and much like I do while watching television, wikipedia whatever might cross my mind.
So I wikipedia'd Ladyhawke and was amazed and delighted to discover she has Asperger Syndrome.
Asperger. Asperger. Where'd I hear that lately? Oh yeah. Eve.
Eve and I went to dinner last week at Bar Bambino, apparently for the sole purpose of getting involved in a very long conversation with a middle-aged douchebag who'd had 8 too many beers.
You know how gay people always think everyone is secretly gay and I've now decided that everyone is a drunk? (Oh yeah, I'm always deciding y'all are closet boozehounds or coming to work stoned now that I'm on my sober high horse.) Well Ms. Eve diagnoses anyone and everyone as having Asberger Syndrome.
Drop a name around Eve and she'll bust out, "Seriously, I think he has Asperger's. I'm not kidding."
So I looked it up. Eve might be right. In the blogging world, we hang out with a lot of people who exhibit the following:
Unlike those with autism, people with AS are not usually withdrawn around others; they approach others, even if awkwardly, for example by engaging in a one-sided, long-winded speech about a favorite topic while misunderstanding or not recognizing the listener's feelings or reactions, such as need for privacy or haste to leave.
Oh my God. This is me. This is definitely me. You don't even have to bring up serial killers. I'll just walk up to anyone and delve into my fascination with Albert Fish.
Worse, I will never be nearly as cool as Ladyhawke. So get off this loser site and go check that nutjob out...