WAYFARERS AND ADVIL

Sometimes you want to go…

I woke up this morning with the “Cheers” tv theme song in my head. Ended up singing it in the shower. The rest of the day was pretty ordinary.

I feel liberated. I have a new mantra of sorts. It’s quite simple. I am me, all the time. If its not funny, I don’t laugh. I wear what I want, in the confines of office dress code, and on the weekends I’m golden. I’m not interested in getting married or having children at this time in my life. I know that’s hard for some to fathom, but its my truth. I’m more interested in great love, and great flings that fade. I also enjoy the hell out of my solitude, and its mine when I want it. If some ignorant prick says something is weird that I like, I give them no reaction. I simply continue enjoying what I fucking enjoy, because your opinion holds no weight with me. I don’t exist to make you feel comfortable or good about yourself. My Momma loved me, I’m sorry for whatever happened to you. I’m draped in awesomeness like that damn cloak Harry Potter wore, but you can see my ass. And with that, good night gents, and to the ladies, stay wonderful and ultimately superior to man in every way. Love y’all.

10:38 AM. Saturday. Captains log:

I’m hungry. Haven’t quite figured out how to acquire human food while still in bed. The rain at my window lulls me. Damn the rain. Damn my hunger.

10:40 PM Saturday.

I have a Domino’s pizza app on my iphone. Will use this wizardry to defeat my hunger. Have not left bed.

Saying “yes ma’am, no ma’am, please and thank you” doesn’t take you out of the shitty people category. It just means you have manners. Dictators have manners. You’ve mastered a few common pleasantries, congratulations asshole.

I do not want to be a politician. I’m pretty sure everyone goes through hypothetical campaign speeches in their head while they’re on the toilet.

Have y’all ever wondered what would happen if somebody from the Chi that was ill got a deal on the hottest rap label around?

I’m at that point where I could cook myself a nice meal or eat a box of Little Debbie oatmeal pies. Hate the space between. Damn, Dave you knew what was up.

I overhead some conversation about Facebook’s lack of privacy. I chortled at the oxymoronic nature of it all. Facebook is a billionaire dollar company. Companies sell products, services, and sometimes both. You are Facebook’s product, the service is free. They harvest your memories, ramblings, and whatever else you post to sell to companies for advertising revenue. Imagine, a living breathing product that willingly comes to you everyday to make you more money. It’s really quite genius, albeit a bit creepy.

“You are sooo weird!”

I’m not weird, and you’re not either. I am me, and you are you. We don’t apologize for it. We don’t have guilty pleasures, we have pleasures and we don’t mind enjoying them in front of others. People need to rationalize this, so they call you weird. They need to process it in some way. They hide parts of themselves everyday, and I know they’re thinking, “How dare you be yourself in front of me! I pretend everyday I like things that I hate and you should have the decency to be ashamed of who you are! Don’t you know the rules?!” Insecurities speak louder than words. I feel bad for these bros, but I live in the free world, so I must keep on rocking as they say.

‘Silver Linings Playbook’ just wrecked my heart, about to eat a steak and finish crying. I’m a man, so I eat a steak when I cry.