Thursday, September 6, 2012

Deviant behaviors you never suspected

I’d like to share a moment when I decided to drive across the country to dig dinosaur bones in Montana. Instead of staying in seedy motels along the way, I decided to stay at Bed and Breakfast homes. They are much nicer, and oddly cheaper.

A B&B is not anything like a motel. People and  pets live in the house. They also cook you breakfast (normally it's the people who does this, not the pets), listen to your endless chatter, and let you use their internet service.

And the best part is you don’t have to stay in your room. Instead, you can lounge out in the living room and ransack their bookshelves for reading material.

While I relaxed in a very comfortable chair as one of the house cats sniffed me over, one particular book on the shelf taunted me. Deviant Behaviors I wanted to know its content. Was it a medical journal? A sensational quasi-historical collection of famous deviant behaviors, or the latest best seller from Decadent Publishing?

Until the nice old woman, who's my babysitter, leaves, I am left pondering the matter. Technically, she’s watching the house for the owner, but I’m thinking the house wouldn’t require watching if I wasn’t here. So for all practical purposes she is my babysitter to ensure I don’t get into mischief, put the cats out …or read the book called Deviant Behavior.

Poor woman (she’s the owner’s mom-but that’s not why she’s‘poor’- she’s poor because she had to listen to my giant moose story (which someday I’ll blog about) and the similarity of my cat’s personality to their cat’s personality. (which I will never blog about that.)

Poor woman. I’m sure she didn’t sign up for such intensive babysitting.

“Mom, can you come over and make sure the guest doesn’t run off with the till…”

“Certainly dear. Shall I bring my gun?”

“I don’t think that’s necessary. She sounded perfectly charming on the phone…a bit anal about her diet, but otherwise fine…”

Little did they know…

Bet she’s sorry she didn’t bring the gun now.

Poor, poor woman. The more I talked and made funny comments, the more she looked ready to call 911.

Eventually, I saved myself from expulsion by retreating to my room.

6 am I wake up and sneak downstairs to the bookshelf and take--you guessed it--Deviant Behaviors from the shelf. I am shocked by the content!

It’s a college text book of scientific papers on the following Deviant behaviors: taking drugs, child abuse, becoming a witch, riding motorcycles, being a delinquent, being a vagrant, being a criminal, having an odd career, having epilepsy, drinking too much, having mental problems, being a corrupt policeman, having a legal stigma, wishing to alter your sex, being a sadist or masochist, believing in UFO’s, becoming a taxi dancer, being a madam of prostitutes, being a road hustler, being a homosexual, being a role player, and my favorite: becoming a hit man (which is titled a VERY deviant career).

I swear on my sweet dog’s head that I did not fabricate or embellish that list of deviances. I faithfully wrote down the topic of each chapter. (While laughing hystericallyEpilepsy? Odd career? Riding Motorcyles? Really?)

The book discussed by chapter how psychotherapy can cure all these mental deviances.

I wonder if that frightened or encouraged the students of the class. Did they think: “My God, do I have to fix ALL of that!” or did they smile and exclaim: “The entire world is deviant—I’ll be a billionaire by the time I’m thirty.”

The deviant taxi dancer caught my interest because I wasn’t aware that anyone danced with taxis. Most people flutter their arms at them, yell and whistle, but I’ve never, in all my life, seen anyone dance at, with, or around a taxi.

So I went right to the taxi dancing chapter.

Taxi dancers are hostesses who dance and socialize with lonely men who wish to pretend they are on a date at what could best be described as an adult prom. The definition does not include bedroom services.

So why is this deviant? Well according to the paper, it is in direct contradiction to female-male relationships and it requires women to show/pretend an interest in men who may be different in terms of age, race and cultural background.

While I agree in female-male relationships that men do not normally want to dance, otherwise I felt the idiotic author was off the mark. Women have been pretending interest in men since the beginning of time. Do you really think a gorgeous model marries an old guy with weird orange hair who eats pizza with a fork and fires people on TV because she loves or has a great deal in common with him? Come on! There is nothing there to love…except his fame and money.
I’m not saying all women do this. But let’s face it. A lot of us settle, and while settling, money comes into consideration. Okay, he’s arrogant, ugly as crap, and that hair will give me nightmares in the morning, but he is famous, and while not nearly as rich as he puts on, he does know how to bellow and get stuff for free. What the hell. I’ll marry the duck.

However these taxi dancers are just paid to dance with men. They don’t have to marry them. So it’s a job. Has to be better than marrying the duck or waitressing. (I say that in half ignorance. While I have been a waitress, I have never danced with taxis and would never ever marry duck.)

Now that I am educated as to what a taxi dancer is, I ponder why are the taxi dancers labeled deviant, but the men pretending to like to dance while they make believe the paid dancers are their girlfriends are considered normal?

Same question for madams? Why aren’t the customers considered deviant?

Honestly, if we are going to use such a broad stroke on the word deviant, then let’s get them all:  People who wear checkered golf clothes.
People who think the color orange is pretty.

People who write novels about an 80 year old woman who comes back in a teen’s body.

People who write erotic romance novels. People who write blogs. People who write.

Ah! And people who buy a membership to and reads Liza’s unpublished books.

Let’s face it, we’re all deviant, if deviance means behaving in a way that someone, somewhere will disapprove. So embrace your deviances and let them shine. Say "look at me, I drive a motorcycle and hang with taxi dancers."

But for God’s sake, don’t call a hitman deviant…not online, not on the phone, and certainly not to his face. To do so is suicidal, and that my friend,
 is a deviant behavior.

Yes, this was on my old blog site, but only 3 people viewed it, so I felt it warranted another chance.

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