Thursday, June 26, 2008

Somebody gets me a gift that could be "entered in" as evidence against me in a trial


I'm broke again even though I heroically work one part time job that pays under 10 dollars an hour. I went drinking twice in the past week or two and that "good time" basically gutted all my savings. And by savings I mean the hundred dollars I managed to stock away since I started working at the grocery store.

I'm the kind of guy who buys a dozen pregnancy tests at the dollar store and stuffs them all under the bathroom cabinet in hopes that you will find them when you are snooping through my medicine cabinet to teach you a lesson about learning things about people you don't want to know.
I guess that is why one of my best friends dropped by yesterday just to give a poster of Hannah Montana. I think it will go great with Mary-Kate and Ashley hair gel that I have on my bathroom sink counter top. I don't know where I will hang the poster yet, but my roommate said I could hang it in the living room. If I hang it in the living room I think that will defeat the whole purpose of the poster which I assumed to be for masturbation.

Normally I would be psyched about getting a poster of such a fine piece of jailbait. But lately I have come to the conclusion that my well known predilection for under aged girls maybe coming to an end. It might be because I am finally getting mature, but it probably has more to do with the fact that none of them know who Morris the cat is.


Seriously, it's almost like you can't have a conversation with one without explaining every other reference you make from the popular culture zeitgeist of 1970's TV. Furthermore, you can assume that they don't read the papers or watch the evening news, they get their news from the internet. And I think I don't need to tell you how I hate it when teenagers feign grown up feelings like nostalgia.

The boomer parents of Generation Y have a thing for nostalgia, and now their children feel entitled to it. I remember a few years ago Gen X got in trouble from all the weekly magazines (god they hate us) for an early case of nostalgia fondness. But at least when I say "that takes me back" I am not referring to 2006 and the whole S.A.R.S. scare. "I remember buying one of those surgical masks, it was like a way scary time to be alive." Christ, maybe Tom Brokaw had it right about the greatest generation thing.

(To the teens reading this blog on their palm pilots --Tom Brokaw was a news anchor on NBC --the network that Jerry Seinfeld started--back when people waited for the news to be read to them by an old white guy at 5:30 in the evening with their TV dinners you actually cooked in the non microwave oven because our mom's cared about our health way more than your moms care about yours.)

6 comments:

Wendi said...

You are funny! Just found your blog while searching Google. Thought I'd say hi!

Wendi said...

You are funny! Just found your blog while searching Google. Thought I'd say hi!

DrugMonkey, Master of Pharmacy said...

I kinda like cats, but I always hated Morris. Stuck up furry bastard. I mean, it's one level of annoying to be a snob about something good, but 9 lives? What the fuck was that? That's like a people saying "only Manwhich will do for my discriminating tastes." Morris was obviously white trash, or yellow trash, and too stupid to recognize his low place on society's totem pole. The kind of cat who will vote for McCain in the fall 'cause he needs to feel superior to the 'negras, thereby enabling the man to continue to shove the red, white, and blue cock of corporate control up all our asses....

I want to punch Morris in the nose.

Romius T. said...

I must be that white trash fellow to the white trash kitty, morris. Though I take issue with you on all most all your points.

Before the reagan era 9 lives was the fanciest shit you could buy in a supermarket. Just another reason to love the reagan revolution and the deregulation of the kitten food industry (long overdue)

P.S. I had no clue morris could inspire such antipathy towards him. I thought morris to be the epitome of cool and sarcastic distance. I patterned my entire life after him.

Freida Bee said...

Oh, this brings up memories of my mother and I shopping in the grocery store when Fancy Feast first came out and a cashier asked us, "Oh, I haven't tried this. Is it any good?"

My mother and I have been able to wonder all these years if, perhaps, she ate cat food. That Morris story realy took me back to a time when I thought I was a Republican because my mom is, the Final Net aeresol hair spray which must still coat my lungs and getting fingered in church vans.

Thanks.

Romius T. said...

yer welcome frieda!