Wednesday, June 27, 2012

The good, bad, and the ugly

Like most people I have good and bad days.  More bad than good, but that's probably because of temperament, my disposition, my depression, bi-polarism, the mania, drug use, and general wear and tear of 42 years.  After a while it adds up on a man, and I guess I let it get me down.

Not that my life is really all that "bad." It's not like I'm an orphan child in Africa. (Things are lookin up for those kids, I just invented a tiny robot that literally picks the flies out of the dying children's eyes.)

So you see things really aren't that bad. I guess they are just bad in the 'modern sense'.  Twitter calls them #whitepeopleproblems.  Like deciding if you should get the horn fixed on your Volvo before you replace the timing belt.

But I can't help what year I was born in.  I can't help the fact that I ain't got Nazis that need an ass-kicking.  I can't help the fact that white people already solved most of the problems that been facing people for years.

Don't believe me?  

How'd we ever get a black President then?

So I focus on myself.  Maybe to the detriment of our species, or maybe just to the detriment of the homeless population.  But it is what it is what it is.  And their ain't no sense in complaining to me about what I should really be doing.

Frankly, I ain't gonna listen to you.  If I was, I surely would have listened by now.  Instead I am just thinking a lot about Bath Salts.  About how maybe they ain't as bad as people tell you they are.

Also, I think a lot about football.  Got an app on my phone where I listen to all these podcasts and news reports.  They go on for hours and keep me informed about stuff I really need to know about.  OTA's and rookie salary caps and the like.

But I'm doing a lot of stuff like that.  Drinking, gambling.  Anything to keep my mind occupied and growing.  I'm learning new stuff constantly.  I am on the Internet everyday.   I check out sites that inform me about all kinds of things.  But I won't be bothered reading anything that I can't find on Reddit.com.

That's because I'm done reading classics.  I'm done reading books period.  Maybe if I could get my leg to stop shaking, I would sit down and read the old fashioned way.  One book at a time.  One idea at a time.  No hyper threads linking me to conspiracy theories.  No schizoid frenetic masturbation.

But like I said, that shit's old fashioned.  Kindle books, internet, twitter, I get my information the way the new generation does.  My WHOLE brain is moved too!  Faster.  I see connections everywhere.

Not Karma though.  That's a bunch of horse shit.  I mean real solid connections based on informed guestimations. Old people don't get it.  But I'm not like most old people.  Shit, put a hat on me and I could pass for 27.  Give me some E.  My face goes all soft.  I look early twenties.  Scared the Bejesus out of the teenagers I rave with.

They started calling me RAVE. Like in all capital letters.  Pretty cool nickname if I say so myself.  And you can't give yourself nicknames, otherwise we'd all call ourselves Max.

Sobriquet.  That's a fancy name for nickname.  Bet you didn't think I new that.  Well, I watch TV shows like NEWSROOM so you know that I am practically a pseudo intellectual.  I watched it on the YOUTUBE.  Sometimes HBO shows their TV shows on YOUTUBE.  Bet you didn't know that!  But I did. That's because I am two steps ahead of you. You old fucking dinosaur!!!  HAHAH

But I love that about you.  I love teaching you stuff.  I love you....in fact...part of me is secretly thinking about fucking you right now,,,ya...RIGHT NOW.

Don't get soft or wet just yet.  I'm probably not going to make my move anytime soon.  But it could happen.  If you get lucky.  Just think about it.  Think about me having my way with you.

WAIT A MINUTE

I think we got off track.  I am trying to explain today's universe to you.  Then we got all crazy.  HAHAH  Sorry, man.  But don't fret.  we got plenty of time.  So long as the circulation goes to my feet.  So long as the hair grows back on my legs.  So longs as I stop drinking soda.  Then we will have a few good years.  I got ten maybe 12 years left in me before I kick the bucket.  Before my kidneys shut down.  Before my job gets canned.  We all kick the bucket, we all get let go.  Before the robots take over.  Before the WalMart has everybody doing slave labor.

I'm glad I will be dying before all that. Before America is no longer #1.  When we get out kicks from watching hand ball or water polo.

"OH YEAH!!! WELL OUR WATER POLO TEAM CAME IN 17TH PLACE IN THE WORLD CUP FINAL, SO TAKE THAT URGUAY!"

Naah.  That shit is for you younger generations, me an your mom is just gonna play finger-pony in my ass while this fucking mania keeps me unnaturally high.

You guys can handle sucking.  You guys can handle coming in second.  My generation, well...we didn't handle that shit too well.  That's why we fail.  I mean we wrote Heather's and Clerks.  Two damn good movies.  But after that, it was like PEZ candy, after the nostalgia runs out you realize the shit candy you are eating and go hunting for something like a Magnum Caramel Ice Cream Bar.  Wayyyyy to fucking extravagant, but fuck it as the food stamps are paying for that shit.   Fuck the looks the guy with Mercedes gives you when you count out your coin rolls, the three gift cards, and the store credit you got for returning that spoiled meat you left on the counter to pay for your shit.

Fuck that dude.  Find his car later, and let the air out of it.  You'd have stabbed that shit a few years ago, but have you seen the mountains of tires located on Indian lands that get set on fire each summer?  Sending mad caps of black smoke into the air.  That shits for real, y'all.

Sorry for making this so long, I was going to keep this shit tight.

You know real short and all, but then I had today's poop watch and it was clay colored, which is a heck of a lot better than yesterday's green poop, you know what I am saying?  So things were on a spiral up.  My digestive track was getting better.  That is until about two minutes ago when I let loose with some juicy, green, almost chunky diarrhea.  Shit burned my ass chaps.  So now I am thinking... that shit mostly don't change, if you know what I mean.

Monday, June 11, 2012

Oversharing is what blogs are for

I've been oversharing at work.  I talk to my customers about my life in the minutia that bloggers do, like the people at work really give a crap.  Example.  I tell my customers that, "I just bought a used car."

"It's a 1990 Volvo 760 turbo." I say.  "I bought it for only $1300."

The Volvo 760 has that amazing turbo whine.  I just love the sound of it! 

"Oh, how nice for you."  They reply.

Then I tell them how I took the car around several repair shops to get an oil change.

"It turns out that you can't take a Volvo to Walmart for an oil change.  They don't stock the necessary parts to do an oil change.  I had to go to Midas.  Midas charges $39.99 for an oil change."

And sometimes my  customers will agree with me that the price seems "a bit high."  But that just encourages me to tell them that the mechanic I took it for the oil change found an oil leak.

"Might be something, might be nothing.  But I am going to have the undercarriage power washed and the shop is going to add some dye to the engine to determine where the leak is coming from."

"If the leak isn't important they can just add a valve cover or something and the cost will be a few hundred dollars and everything should be okay.  But of course if the leak is from someplace important it could cost quite a bit more money and the engine or the turbo may be in danger or already ruined."

If that IS the case, then I am fucked.  A new turbo could easily run a 2,000 bucks.  A new engine just as much.  I don't have nearly enough money to fix those things if they go wrong.

I go on like that all day.  Same story to hundreds of customers.   I also engage my fellow workmates in my oversharing.  I talk and talk.

Afterwards I  feel like shit, like a druggie after getting high, huffing paint and then waking up in a puddle of my own piss and swearing to myself, "Never again!"

But the next customer comes and I talk about how the car has air conditioning.  And how I just bought new seat covers, and how I am thinking about getting a new stereo so I can play my phone or an mp3 player while I drive.

Not that I have driven anywhere since I have gotten the car.  That's the question I have gotten the most.  "Gone anyplace cool since you got the car.  "Nope."  I answer.  "Just the MVD, Dairy Queen, and work."

So now I have to overshare with you.  Aren't you lucky?

Wednesday, June 06, 2012

Summer time fun

It was hot outside today, somebody turn off the toaster oven, because it's baking me at a hundred and ten.

Took the bus to some run down apartment house to buy a car.* Before I could do that though I had to poop in a girl's bathroom at Shlotsky's Sandwich Shoppe.  I waited for ten minutes outside the men's only stall to no avail.  Dude was simply not budging.  Right as I get that loose shit out of me some girl comes barging in.  I screamed out "someone's in here!"

I gave the girl a shock I bet!  And she was a total cutie.  I bet she regretted the day she walked in after me...

ProTip:  If it takes you twenty minutes to poop, you don't have to poop!  If you have to shit diarrhea in the girl's bathroom you have a MEDICAL CONDITION.

So I finally get to the apartment and the damn bitch forgot to tell me that the car didn't have a battery.  So there was no way for me to start the car, check it out, or even take it on a test drive.

Did I mention that I took the bus to see her?  Well, I told her.  You would think she might have mentioned the battery situation.  It's not like I was going to go back on the bus, then look for an auto parts store and ride back on the bus to maybe fix her car for her.

The world is senseless.

The world is fucking with me.  Still.  After all these years.  Like the same stupid joke god never gets tired of hearing.  Why?  Why?  Why you no get tired of same joke, God?

On the ride home

I got to talking to a fellow bus rider about my situation.  The rider offered to give me their number, "so we could hang out sometime."

Pretty sure that dude was gay.

I downloaded a few books from the library.  One of them is After Shock by Robert Reich.  Talks about how the 1% is fucking us over.  The other book is A First Rate Madness by Nassir Ghaemi which talks about how crazy people are the best leaders.  It gives weight to ideas like how depressive's see the world, "study after study has shown that those suffering depression are better than "normal" people at assessing current threats and predicting future outcomes."

So they seem like really good books.  I thought I would share with you guys how things are going since it has been too long since I have written.  I might start writing a little more often.  So stay tuned.

*How the fuck can I afford a car you ask?  It turns out I have a 401k from the old Self Help Center job.  It was just sitting there earning me interest and shit.  So I took it out.  Got a couple of g's yo!  So I am in the market for a crappy used car that will cost me too damn much of my beer drinking money, will probably break down on me in the first few weeks, and leave me crying to myself the next morning after huffing on lubrication.