The Misanthrope, aka Me

Recent text message conversation with my friend Ross:

Me: I am in mixer hell. I'm really just waiting for them to do the drawing. Blah.
Ross: Drawing? Sounds like that short story The Lottery. I hope your drawing isn't as tragic. But then maybe it is.
Me: Yah I have no idea why I subject myself to this torture. I should just resign myself to the fact that I'm wildly antisocial.
Ross: You must adapt to your environment or adapt it to you, grasshopper.
Me: [several minutes later] I bailed. Now I'm grocery shopping. This is infinitely preferable. Even though I still have no idea what's for dinner tonight.

I don't even know what the drawing prizes were. I only mildly regret leaving before even giving myself the chance to win them.