Coming up on 48 hours. Goddammit.
the spontaneous beer free (so far) August has been great, but not without its issues. Coors N/A is like quitting smoking, in terms of its you ate too much cheese and no fiber effect. Then there’s the dreams. Last night’s triple feature”
- sharks in Michigan. Yes, stupidly taunting them was involved. Fortunately, there was a scene change before things went all sharkquake vs. Mega
- Never even breath on a classic car in an unlikely impromptu car show at a small Gothic church in Chicago. One of them will roll away. The guy you ride with to chase it down is actually some sort of mobster. He would rather sink his car in the lake with you in it than let you live. Not fun.
- But you escape and go home – only to discover uncollected mail for someone in a former life is not stacking up at my house. and so are unaccounted for dishes. And wait@ WTF are these keys doing here? That life is long gone and over, but in the day, she never went anywhere without her keys. Apprehensive search of the house ensues. The cupboards are clear. But not the third bedroom. We’re now living in Goldilocks land.
A million years ago, I had young kids, a Jeep, a wife who sorta loathed me and a job that bored me. And cable internet and a digital camera and a President that I kind of ranted about constantly. And stories. Lots and lots of stories. Usually stupid, mundane things.
I wanted a soapbox to tell my truths. Even if they were actually lies, or mostly imaginary. The challenge was to make them amusing to my audience. This was kind of a low bar, since my “audience,” such as it was, was myself and a couple of friend/contributors.
But there were these things called “blogs.” God, what a stupid name. I didn’t want a “blog.” I wasn’t a “blogger.” I wanted a “website” where I could post things in serial fashion as I thought of them, augmented by pictures and video.* [Ed.: That is the very definition of a blog, genius.]
Not just in this song ^^, but in the real world too.
Better than “wife.” Better than “I haven’t looked at the issue, but I sure wish Arizona recognized common law marriage.” [Ed.: it doesn’t, and if it had, you didn’t qualify anyway.] Because “girlfriend” means no commitments or promises you did not explicitly undertake. And no 64-day waiting period, when
the irreversible happens it’s time to make a change.
Better than “friends” on the internet. Because “girlfriend” means you have presumably met IRL at least once.
So it’s tax day. Take the day off from the job that has no work. Take the day off from the shitshow that keeps you alive. Do your fucking taxes.
Before that, crash at 10 on the couch.
Oh fuck, is it time to get up?
Nah, it’s just midnight. Go to bed.
Now it’s 4:20.