There will be no images in this post. This post will not even be that long. I won’t even swear about ridiculous things and I won’t root out minority groups in badly designed jokes. I won’t go on a political tirade or even try to type out a lecture in some elaborate effort to change the way people think or live. No. Tonight I write a letter to you, the reader of this article, because sometimes we have to cut ourselves away from the silly day-to-day shenanigans and force some perspective into our weary minds.
This is some inspired fiction, based on something that happened a few days ago to a good friend of mine. Tonight, I visited him in the hospital. He’s okay, everything’s fine. But it’s 10:30. I have a ton of work to do and I can’t be bothered to be writing something five people may read.
Continue reading Suppose You Were To Die Tonight. What Would You Say?
At the conclusion of every December we celebrate the waning of another annual clusterfuck that did not go as planned at all. In fact, shit went so wrong that we wonder “How am I not dead?”, “How do I still have a job?”, “How am I still married?”, “How are my kids, who are apparently suicidal, still breathing?”, “Oh my god, how am I still a fat fatty!?”, “Can’t be worse next year can it?”
You know the answers to these questions. You know the hows and the whys, but December 31 makes us question our lives at around 10:00 PM every time and we realize we have two hours to make a gameplan. Why? Because January 1 is the ultimate “I will do it tomorrow!” It’s the ultimate starting point. It’s like the ultimate Monday you plan to start dieting or the beginning of a work week where you stop binge drinking and beating your kids.
The first of the year is the starting line for a 100 meter dash, except the track is pebbled with land mines, thumb tacks, crippled hookers and pit bulls. On the side of the track are WWE wrestlers with bats waiting for you to veer off course. The air you breathe is infused with the smell of poop and piss and your shoes are crocs, except the worst kind of crocs, WET CROCS. It also takes 365 days to finish this dash.
Every year that passes by I’m impressed by my friend’s and family’s resolve to not completely shit the bed. Life is a sinking boat and if you aren’t bailing water every day you’re fucked. That’s what we call The Grind. Well, the grind starts over in January, and that every new year is started with the dreaded New Year’s Resolution. No, I am not going to advise you what to make for your new year’s resolutions, I am just going to give you a short list of some decent resolutions and some reasons why you’re going to fail at them.
Continue reading Resolutions You Can(not) Count On
Where has the time gone? Well, it has gone into a steaming pile of nothing. I have been busy with the whole “being a daddy” gig and being a lazy waste of Cheeto smashing space. With the advent of the 2015-2016 school year I have decided to do right with trying to get on track with my health – the one thing that truly only matters in terms of my prolonged happiness. I use adult language so be warned.
Continue reading Better Late Than Forever Never