The New Boredom

This one time, about 5 months ago, I rode my bike down Pike’s Peak with my convict Australian friend Damian and my fat friend Steve, who is actually not that fat. I beefed it pretty hard and sliced my arm open in typical me-style.

And of course, I didn’t get it stitched up because Steve and I needed to go eat Mexican food before driving home since that was more important than seeking medical treatment. It healed up pretty well anyway, but I am still getting people at work who see the scar and ask me, “Oh did you crash on your bike again this weekend?”… “Yeah, this weekend in July.”

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I had one of those birthdays the other day and that meant that some people kept asking me how old I was. I hate that because these days, I don’t really care. I just feel old for the most part. It’s not like when you’re a little kid and some one asks you how old you are and you have it ready to go straight out of the holster: “I’m 7 and 13-15ths!”

So now I just look stupid when I really have to think about it and then when I do the math, it still doesn’t seem right and I don’t trust myself when I say a number.

Looks like it’s back to my old plan of just saying that I’m turning 19 no matter what.

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The one thing that has got me thinking of upgrading…

Sorry thighs, that’s what was in the fridge for diner.

What am I, in my third trimester here?

A grown man saying sorry for having eaten half a pie for diner… shameful. Really I should be saying “Shitchyeah that’s what’s for diner! What’s up now, World?!”

But then a half hour later I totally regretted it because my stomach was real confused by the 2,800 calorie curveball that I just slammed home and I had indigestion for the rest of the evening. Apparently that’s the world’s way of responding, “That is what is up now, Bitch.”

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I was super sleepy when I saw this and said “Whoa, I want to go to there…” and then five minutes later, realized it was an illustration and I felt real stupid for having dreams and aspirations.

Remember when Dennis Rodman was just a really good forward and not just an insane person that married himself while stealing all of your boards?

Yeah, well most of the people I work around every day don’t even remember a time when Dennis Rodman was an insane person, never mind the prime worm-days where his hair was normal.

This news made me feel old.

Also it made me realize that I don’t know who plays basketball anymore. No clue. I doubt I could name 6 NBA stars these days.

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I reckon those old Rodman days were about the same time as this song:

So you’ve grown up and gone away to college? You’re really striking out on your own without any parents or rules or anyone telling you what to do- that’s great. Well, shut up.

One criteria for being your own adult is that you can get dressed in the morning. And if you’re not physically able to do this due to some kind of injury or being “differently-abled,” which is a weener way of saying handicapped, then you should at least know how to get dressed.

For many people that I see walking around my campus of employment, this means they are still children. One thing says this above almost all others: your butt-crack. If I see your butt-crack, then you’re not done getting dressed, but you left the house anyways, which means you do not know how to dress yourself, which means you’re a child.

Minus 5 respect points if your uninvited butt-crack shows up to my eyes-party. Minus 50 respect points if that happens more than once.

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I’ve heard that animation is complete on Chapter Three and shooting will start soon. Giddy.