Tuesday, August 29, 2006

On Barometric Pressure

It's late. I've had a long day. I have to be up in a few hours to drive to Michigan. I can't sleep. That, or I don't want to. I dunno.

Today I'm having one of my many typical existential crises which pop up from time to time like a herpes outbreak. God damn. A friend of mine blames my mood swings on barometric pressure; she says that on days when the barometric pressure is higher, peoples' brains start to tweak. All I know is that I've been on fucking edge all day. There was this inbred family of buck-tooth orangutan-looking people in front of me in line at Barnes and Noble this afternoon who spent almost $200 on Dungeons and Dragons books. Harmless, yes, and completely inconsequential to me, but these people irked me so much, I kind of seriously wanted to kill them. Violently. Involving much bloodshed. People such as this shouldn't be allowed to live. And it wasn't just the affinity for Dungeons and Dragons, it was the fact that they couldn't string together a complete sentence if there was a loaded cannon pointed at their face, it was the fact that they obviously had not bathed in probably years, it was the fact that they wore Looney Toons shirts that sucked rod even when they were popular in the mid-90's. And trucker hats. Oh, the trucker hats. Ashton Kutcher couldn't even save them.
And then I kind of realized that, in a really depressingly sick kind of way, I might be a little jealous of those hick butt munchers. Jealous because, clearly, they don't take the time out of their day to think about a single one of the things that causes me to freak out on a daily basis. They are totally cool with being ignorant, stupid, Dungeons and Dragons playing hicks who reek to high hell like bad Indian cooking, whereas I don't think I'll ever be content with anything. I overthink everything to the point where I want to shoot staples into my head. Lucky me.
Most days I curse the fact that I was born as intelligent as I was, and I wish that I could be content to let my will to live get raped by some shitty corporate desk job with a decent salary. That would be so much easier than riding the see-saw I'm on. I don't think there's a place for intelligent people on this planet anymore, honestly; we are devolving back into blathering ape mongoloids in suits and fast cars.
I'm not cut out for this shit. What utter fucking nonsense.

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Flying Spaghetti Monsters


Please check this website out immediately. Seriously.

www.flyingspaghettimonster.com

I want to be this guy's new best friend. Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the FSM.

Sunday, August 20, 2006

On Marriage

This is for Mel. She told me to start writing again.

So, it's been a while--months--since I've posted any garbled ramblings on this site. Weird. I go on sporadic kicks with this thing.

I went to a wedding this weekend in Minneapolis. Well, outside Minneapolis. Actually, way outside of Minneapolis. We were deep in the grips of Suburbia, in a land where the Strip Mall reigns supreme above all else, and there wasn't a single bar to be found. Seriously. No bars. Lots of churches, though. There was a heavy influence of the Lord in all things. I felt as though I was back home in Wheaton (read: uncomfortable).
It trips me out that people my age, friends of mine, are getting married. Here I am, trying to hold on desperately to the last shards of my tattered childhood remnants, and everyone around me seems intent on growing up, buying houses, having children of their own, etc. I have issues. Clearly. But I like my issues.
Anyhow, the wedding was fun. Of course. Weddings are always fun. Especially when there's an open bar. The Blonde One had other obligations, so I brought my buddy with as a wingman. We got ridiculously intoxicated on enough wine to fill the Grand Canyon half way, danced with anyone nearby who was in possession of breasts, ran a pretty standard burn, held numerous awkward conversations with old college acquaintances I haven't seen in years, and slept in my car. Don't ask. Actually, do ask. It's a hilarious story of missed opportunity.
I do have to add that Scott and Jenny (the bride and groom) are perfect for each other, and I'm happy for them. It was nice to sit in the ceremony and know that the two of them're supposed to be together. The last wedding I went to, we were taking bets at the reception on how long it'd take for the marriage to completely deteriorate. I gave it 14 months. Which is generous.