Serious Bullshit!

GET TO STEPPIN'

I'm busy, okay? I'm busy. I'm too busy to live life.

I'm too busy to write a little something to ease my mind and make the few people who would like to read what I have to write feel like it's all worth the wait.

I fill up all of my time avoiding any opportunity in which I might use my brain. It is much like working out. If you haven't been to the gym in a while, you lack the confidence to get back in there. You feel like people might see you as being an idiot for using the butt blaster for an awkward upper body workout. You feel like an idiot when you forget words or punctuation or you use grammar wrongly.

There is never anytime like right now to start working on your future; working on trying to make you the best possible YOU ever imaginable. I know this. It is just being at work all day makes me feel like everything is so futile. I went to school for 17 years of my life just to barely make it financially?

I'll admit my job isn't the worst, but it is so mentally draining that by the end of the work day all I want to do is forget about everything. Sure sounds like reading or writing might be a good way to go, but when I write "forget about everything", I mean EVERYTHING. I don't want to remember how to read or write. I don't want to remember how to draw or like to have fun. I just want to write the day off and start all over again tomorrow, only I don't have to go to work. I don't ever have to go to work again.

I want to win the lottery and pay people to do my job for more than I get paid, so I can spend my free time at work fucking with people. I want to tell people how fat they've become. I want to set all of the clocks ahead by 23 hours, so everyone can see how late don't mean shit. I want to tell people that I walked into the bathroom after them and I had to sneak into the women's room because I couldn't stand the burning sensation my nose had to share with my eyes. I want to tell people that the world isn't going to end if I don't get this particular project done at exactly the time they made me guess it would be done. I want to tell all the hot bitches that I'm going to fuck the shit out of them in the conference room at 3:30, right after I get done with my nap. I want to show up late for that too.

Then I want to get a second job, one where I work with people. The customers!!! I want to have to work with the average customer and tell them that they could buy the exact same car for $5000 less if they just wait a month or go to a different dealer. I want to tell them that I've seen the way they make those houses and I don't recommend that company to anyone. I want to explain to them that if they don't tip me ahead of time I'm going to spill hot coffee on their infant's head, pull off their toupee, and have all of my serving buddies come out of the kitchen all festive like we're going to sing happy birthday - clapping and shouting and then beat the holy-living shit out of them and take what we want from their wallet, because "Thanks" and "Great Job" doesn't pay anyone's bills.

Yeah I'm talking to you Lashawn D. Patterson, she who stiffed me with her credit card on Father's Day 2001. I've got a son, you insensitive whore! If you didn't like something you should have told me. If you had a complaint, you could have told any manager. If you just didn't want to spend the money, you should have stayed at home.

Then I want to go home. I want to hear my girlfriend tell me about the chemical imbalances she's going through in her body right now and how I need to be sensitive to her needs because she is a woman and it is perfectly natural for her to be a bitch to me. Then I want to explain to her how my sexual drive, the kind that men are labeled "pigs" for, is merely due to a chemical called testosterone and if I have to be sensitive to the way the chemicals in her body make her feel and react, she better damn well be prepared to be sensitive to mine. I want to tell her how if it is perfectly natural for a woman to do something it is revered as beautiful and I need to embrace it, but when it comes to a man doing what comes natural it seen as something that needs to be changed.

Then, while she's crying and realizing how right I am, I want to make a call to the President and tell him it's not his fault he's an asshole. It's not his fault gas prices have made it difficult for us to live. It's not his fault that other countries hate us. It's not his fault that American's envision a world for themselves where they have all the money they could ever need and never have to work to deserve a damn thing. Everyone on the entire planet wants something they have no right to; something they do not deserve. They want everything they've ever dreamt about, but never do they ever dream of being someone who deserves it all.

Then I'll hang the phone up crying, because I just got the point to that whole "Planet of the Apes" movie. I'm one of them too. I'm part of the problem and I have done absolutely nothing to fix anything. And then I'll sit back and think how much simpler my day would have been if I would have just stayed at work and done what every else tells me to do. At least that way I'll get to go home and watch LOST tonight.

posted by John Q. Pubic @ 8:48 AM