Ya, I kinda went off the deep end for a while there. I’m back on track. It’ll happen again, so let’s enjoy the lull.
I think we can all appreciate that if our daily lives resembled the four photos below, this World would be a pretty swell place to live…
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… as long as you’re comfortable using the word ‘swell’ when stretch marks, the year 2005 and Carolan’s are involved. Me, I’m comfortable with it all. I’m even comfortable using the term ‘blacks’ when there are blacks in the room, but it’s usually under my breath and while I’m on my way out of the room to a place with more whites.
So what is life like? Well, for me, it’s waking up at 1 am on an ice cold Wednesday and being a circus clown with weak parenting skills trying to convince my intellectually superior 2-year-old son that he should be in bed. By the time the clock strikes 5 am and he’s finally succumb to exhaustion, I’m on the verge of my 39th mental breakdown of 2011 and seriously considering putting my face in the toaster. Why not just let your wife do the parenting? Because it’s not 1955, jerkoff.
Fast forward not far enough into the future and it’s 7:30 am. My alarm is going off, I have a dog stampeding on my face, a wide-awake youngling who wants to watch TV and a headache of Mel Zammit proportions. I close my eyes for an 8-minute nap, then awake and do my usual weekday routine, minus the unenthusiastic masturbation to exercise infomercials because I just don’t have the time.
Head off to work and it’s now 9:42 am and I’m rolling into Tim Horton’s for a pick-me-up. I order the usual bagel and coffee and roll up to the window. The high schooler with teal-coloured gloves tells me the total, takes my money, hands me the change, says “it’ll be a minute,” returns and hands me my bagel and I roll out of the drive thru. Notice something missing? I didn’t, until I was about 2 metres past the point of no return. Silly cum dumpster didn’t give me my coffee and I was far too sleepy to catch the mistake. I turned around, parked and waddled into the store, pushing past skilled tradesmen and retired grandparents to tell the Guatemalan cashier that I had just “driven thru” and wasn’t given my double double coffee.
Micra the Guatemalan goes over to the drive-thru area and shouts back, “was it a large tea with milk,” which of course it fucking could not possibly have been when two seconds earlier I said coffee! I said no and she started rallying the troops to get my coffee. “Just make it over here,” Glenda the middle-aged cashier threw out at Micra, providing no actual or ancillary form of support and getting me no closer to thirst relief. A minute or so later the aforementioned troops assembled for me a lousy cup of coffee and I got in the car to see if that bastard could do 90.
Made it to work 5 minutes shy of a meeting at 11 am. Parked the car and witnessed a few “retards” go the wrong way through a STOP sign. I work with retards. Meeting happened, some other stuff happened, another meeting happened during which I almost fell asleep, some other stuff happened then I came home. Stopped on the way as I figured I’d get a Blizzard. There was a line-up of school kids at Dairy Queen, so I got the hell outta there. Thanks, school kids, for being fuck-ups with sweet tooths. Sweet teeth. Sweet teeths. Fuck you. Fuck Wednesdays. Fuck 12:19 am and I’m not in bed yet.
G’night and thank you for your support.