I Don’t have ADD, I’m Just an Asshole

**Disclaimer** Yes, I realize that ADD is an actual condition, and no, I am not making fun of it. This is a fictional story, not about me, and not about you either. 

Sorry, were you talking to me? If it seemed as if I weren’t paying attention, it’s because I wasn’t. If you want me to listen, then try saying something interesting. While you think of something, I’m going to yawn, pick at my cuticles, contemplate what I’ll be having for dinner, or look over your shoulder for someone less boring with whom to hold a conversation.

You see, I’ve been an asshole since I was nine years old. As a child, my favorite question was, “Why?” While this might seem to signal a curious young mind (and actually did start out this way, innocently enough), that couldn’t have been farther from the truth. Consider this question in response to my friend’s telling me that she is going to wear that shirt with those pants. Or as a response to the statement that we are going to visit a relative who will remain unnamed.

Over the course of my life, this question has popped out of my mouth at inopportune times; sometimes I was trying to not be an asshole, but mostly, it was what came out naturally.

*This post will consist of serial entries (or not, depending on how many complaints I receive), so please tune in again at your convenience.