This Shit Is Dumb
Leave 12 year olds off the internet. They should be outside getting fresh air.
Don't stand outside playing your god damned A chord on your expensive acoustic guitar if you're just outside for a cigarette. An while you're at it, learn a new chord, or maybe a new rhythm instead of "BAH bah bah BAH bah bah BAH bah". I know the combination of that chord and that rhythm and that trucker hat and that t-shirt has the ladies falling out of trees and fawning over your mere existance, but grow some balls and realize you only sound any good because your parents spent thousands of dollars on your suck-butt cliched guitar. And keep the beat-boxing and lyrical forays to yourself. I don't need this.
Random Jag-Off: "Excuse me, did someone just say 'Pussy'?"
Me: "Yes, several times."
Random Jag-Off: "Is that you guys are smoking?"
Me: "Um, no, it's a reference to the vagina. You know, female genitalia."
Random Jag-Off: "Oh."
Piss off!
I want so badly to like people. I don't want to turn into some bitter antisocial curmudgeon with prostate cancer and frisbees stuck on my roof. But pretty much all I need at this point is a roof and I'm that jackass Crankshaft from the comics page, whom I also hate.
I'm going to bed. Tomorrow's another day. Big smiles. Joyous stride. Clenched teeth. Polite wave. Minimal outward resentment. Be happy, be healthy. Toothy grins, people like the toothy grins. Be sure to say "Hello" to people with whom you've made brief contact with in the past several months; wouldn't want to offend anyone by ignoring them and delaying a recognition gesture despite never hanging out with them or seeing them outside of the scope of an awkward conversation.
Everyday is boring and dumb. I wish these words were less perfect, but they describe life a little too perfectly. I wish I could call myself "bemused" or something slightly interesting like that, but no. Boring. Dumb.
Dumb.
Oh, listen to me. I just had a bummy day. Boo. People are dumb and I'm boring. Tomorrow will be better.
And I simply can't wait for the irony that will befall me based upon my usage of that adage. Goodnight, folks. Have more fun than me.
Don't stand outside playing your god damned A chord on your expensive acoustic guitar if you're just outside for a cigarette. An while you're at it, learn a new chord, or maybe a new rhythm instead of "BAH bah bah BAH bah bah BAH bah". I know the combination of that chord and that rhythm and that trucker hat and that t-shirt has the ladies falling out of trees and fawning over your mere existance, but grow some balls and realize you only sound any good because your parents spent thousands of dollars on your suck-butt cliched guitar. And keep the beat-boxing and lyrical forays to yourself. I don't need this.
Random Jag-Off: "Excuse me, did someone just say 'Pussy'?"
Me: "Yes, several times."
Random Jag-Off: "Is that you guys are smoking?"
Me: "Um, no, it's a reference to the vagina. You know, female genitalia."
Random Jag-Off: "Oh."
Piss off!
I want so badly to like people. I don't want to turn into some bitter antisocial curmudgeon with prostate cancer and frisbees stuck on my roof. But pretty much all I need at this point is a roof and I'm that jackass Crankshaft from the comics page, whom I also hate.
I'm going to bed. Tomorrow's another day. Big smiles. Joyous stride. Clenched teeth. Polite wave. Minimal outward resentment. Be happy, be healthy. Toothy grins, people like the toothy grins. Be sure to say "Hello" to people with whom you've made brief contact with in the past several months; wouldn't want to offend anyone by ignoring them and delaying a recognition gesture despite never hanging out with them or seeing them outside of the scope of an awkward conversation.
Everyday is boring and dumb. I wish these words were less perfect, but they describe life a little too perfectly. I wish I could call myself "bemused" or something slightly interesting like that, but no. Boring. Dumb.
Dumb.
Oh, listen to me. I just had a bummy day. Boo. People are dumb and I'm boring. Tomorrow will be better.
And I simply can't wait for the irony that will befall me based upon my usage of that adage. Goodnight, folks. Have more fun than me.
posted by MC Harv at 1:59 AM
17 Comments:
I had a bummy day too, Jack. People were on my nerves as well.
And the snow... the goddamned, fucking, bloody, shiteating, relentless snow.
Minimal outward resentment, indeed. I'll try too - and perhaps between ourselves we can make everyone around us happy while staying miserable ourselves.
I'll read you a story, if you like.
good job, mb. you sound very happy.
Hey Jack; this is Eva. I was feeling remarkably similar until I went to Mayday w/ Oakley...now you should see the enormous, goofy grin on my face. It seems like the [admittedly temporary] cure for overwhelming feelings of lassitude/iconoclasm (sp? is that even a word?)is doing things that are not routine, that showcase the best creative and altruistic impulses of human beings, and that involve attractive people. I love you, and kept thinking how much I wished you were with me to see it all...I'll send you pictures.
Too bad it snowed on fucking May Day. God damn, fucking Minnesota.
Jack, you love Crankshaft, that dude blows shit up.
-Thomas
"I don't want to turn into some bitter antisocial curmudgeon with prostate cancer and frisbees stuck on my roof."
Love it.
Have a better day tomorrow! (waving and giving you a bid cheesy smile while I listen to Dave Matthews play his guitar.)
Chin up. bummy days make for good reflection and all.
dude, come on.... hermitude sounds FAB to me.
but can i be the Crazy Cat Lady?
who owns 45 umbrellas?
ill let you have the picket fence that the kids always drag sticks across.....
and you can say: 'damn *&^%&*^ rotten (&%#@% kids. Get off my lawn!"
I'd love to learn how to say censored swear words.
"And number sign at percent number sign number sign dollar parentheses exclamation point question mark exclamation point!"
it stood for some muttering, like damn muttermutter rotten mutter kids.
Guess I could've written that.
I always liked Elmer Fudd, "Rickin' frickin'...".
Make sure you don't let the kids cut through the corner of the yard.
a couple of 12 gauge warning shots ought to do it.
Make sure you're in dirty underwear and a wifebeater with a cigarette hanging out of your mouth when you hold the gun in the air and wave your fist.
ooooh.... add a ratty ass terry cloth robe to my list of demands.
and you can have the random furniture on your porch. or is it a veranda?
You'd better believe it's a veranda.
Uh, veranda, what, what. You do lose the porch swing of yore, though, and veranda swings are a little silly.
-Thomas
I'll swing wherever I damn well please!
That's what they all say...
-Thomas
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