A Little Bit About Stuff
May 24, 2007
Filed under:"H" for "Toy"
For starters, I’m 32. The idea that I’m about to turn 33 excites me simply by virtue of the fact that it’s my hockey jersey number and because its my Jesus Birthday and I’m going to throw a “I totally outlived Jesus!” party a la The Onion.
I’m married. To my SoulmateBestFriendOtherHalf, if you believe in that kind of thing. I do, and she does. And the sex is unbelievable.
I have 3 kids. 2 haven’t always had me in their lives, but I am their father now. The newest is perfect, other than the fact that she puts incredibly smelly shit into her pants, the other 2 are awesome and love me like cartoons and racecars. All 3 make me a better man.
I live in a house and I drive a car. I used to work at jobs, but I didn’t like them, so I stopped doing that. Now I work from home but have virtually no income to show for my efforts, and I’ve never been more careerily fulfilled in my entire life.
I think that the World could use more honesty and humour. Now that this is written out, I can see that this is not only incredibly UNprofund, but also appears on every blog from sykofatgrrl to poeticdreamraven. This means that I’ll have to explain it a bit.
By “honesty” I mean, “just fucking call ‘em like you see ‘em” and by “humour” I mean, “and make it fucking funny if you can and you always can.”
My neighbour just moved out, and he seemed like a nice guy, other than the fact that he was beyond creeptastically creepilicious. Its one thing when someone looks as if their head was constructed by Mother Nature purely for surveillance, with boggly eyes a-peering and mini-satellites perched on either side of their sloped, streamlined, and balding head, but it’s a whole separate issue when none of that shit actually works.
Deaf, somewhat blind, and potentially pedophilically creeptestical, he hardly ever spoke, didn’t wave, stared unabashedly with zero regard for social mores, and had a buff and naked Action Man action figure placed in various poses around his front yard. One doesn’t have to be a sociologist to guess where our Postie thinks this guy likes to put his doodle.
In bums. IN bums. IN BUMS.
I’m White Trash, though through a logic loophole, knowing that I am means that I’m really not. Most of the people at my kid’s school are and they don’t know it. I like them anyway and frequently strike up conversation just to see if I can hold up the façade of my whitetrashedness.
I wear a black cowboy hat that’s pure Aussie and made from dead kangaroos. I didn’t kill them. I bought it to represent my freedom from the shackles of the Nine-to-Five Rat Race. Also because of the frantic and animalistic manner Wife was tearing at my belt and pants after I asked her how I looked with it on in the shop.
Though the majority of the folks with which I interact on a personal and conversational level aren’t of the highest intellect, I read a considerable amount on this here Intraweb, and I’ve got some opinions on the state of our world.
It’s not that its all bullshit, it’s that not enough of it is called that. I don’t mean just blogs or news articles or even raw statistical data. I mean all of it. Even if it isn’t bullshit, more of us need to be calling it that, just to keep the lid on. Question Everything. For this line of thinking, I believe many would refer to the quote:
The unexamined life is not worth living.
-Socrates
He’s right, and he called LOTS of stuff “bullshit.” He also knew that some of it wasn’t, but that he was encouraging people to be more inquisitive.
Yes, that’s what I’m doing. Did you notice that I just compared myself to Socrates? Did you see how I did that? Yeah.
That’s not even my favourite quote of his. To blatantly swipe Gold material from a favourite movie of mine I say things like “Its times like this that I like to think of the immortal words of Socrates, who said, ‘I drank what?’”
I am forever stealing lines from movies as there really never seems to be a situation where one isn’t appropriate. That is, unless it’s blatantly obvious that this is what I’m doing. That’s when I switch to speaking song lyrics. There’s something about an artfully placed “Whoo-ooo… whee-ooo…” to really liven up a conversation, if only to communicate that you aren’t really listening and it’s time for something else.
Though I’ve never really figured out why I do this, other than it makes me laugh in my head, I’ve found that I am incredibly drawn to others that do it as well.
Better still are those that say things that SHOULD be instantaneously immortalised, like my extremely dry and sarcastic brother-in-law, a VeryGoodFriend named from farm-produced meat products and natural disasters, and especially my wife, whose quotes I will someday be sharing in another ever-expanding post.
The reason that I’ve placed the latter description so intentionally is because this post, like many others, can so easily be expounded upon that the OCD inside of me will no doubt eat away at me until I’ve done so.
I drank what?
-Socrates
4 Comments
If you crawl through the dung-heap of blogs for long enough, you might trip over a pearl. I think I might have found one - but I withhold judgement until I’m sober.
Don’t hold your breath.
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