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.
I don’t need her to complete me. Her added company will do just fine. We’ll simply enjoy each other.
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?
“Hardcore Relaxin’: Geriatric Boogaloo”
“Honey, we’re out of cayenne pepper.”
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.