Turning Webster Over In His Grave

Something has been bugging me.
In my last post, I said that I flirted with misanthropy. When my husband read that post, he asked me what that word meant. I smugly consulted dictionary.com in front of him. I was horrified to find that the definition there was "a hater of mankind."
No, No, No! This is not me! Even though I said I only flirted misanthropy, I still do not want the term hate to be associated with me. Ever.
I have never hated a single person or group of humans in my life.
When I was very young, Mark Twain led me to believe that this word had a more gentle meaning...maybe "general distaste of the human race?"

I am freshly 30 years old. It has taken me almost all of those 30 years to realize that I am no smarter than anyone on this earth. When I was growing up I had all sorts of people try to convince me otherwise. My parents even had to have that "private meeting" with a teacher about my unusually high IQ, and they would not tell me my IQ while I was growing up. I am not sure why. Did they think I would scare myself? Ha! Let me say this loud and clear, A HIGH IQ gets you NOWHERE. It simply means you could be book smart if you wanted to be. It only took about 10 years working in the field of science to realize book smart people can be some scary, scary people.

So I would like to revise my definition of misanthrope to the following:
Someone who tends to become puzzled at the nature of humans in the following places (in no particular order): the workplace, the dwellings of academics, Wal-Mart, amusement parks, FOX news, the mall, the airport, any place that involves cars and drivers...