Back to basics

Yo! Let’s get real about some stuff this morning. I’ve tried my hand at some other writings the last couple of days and now that I’ve dusted off those unused keys on my keyboard; the ones other than F-U-C and K and also S-H-I and T – let’s talk about some for real shit.

Friday Morning Traffic: To the douche-nozzle in the puce colored Kia Soul driving along the shoulder – I hope you pop your tire and crash your ugly car. Is it really that important to get ahead of me? Must you try that diligently to not merge with the rest of traffic because somehow you think that your shitty little four-banger is better than mine or anyone else’s on the road for that matter? Got news for you: the shoulder was not placed there so that you could utilize it to “get ahead” or “one up” the rest of us. Wait. I just pulled up alongside of you two miles down the road; a lot of good it did you. It is 8 am, I am not caffeinated yet, I’m still rubbing sleep from my eyes and have taken cold showers for the last two days because my apartment complex has no hot water. Fuck with me. I dare you. You’re lucky I have to pee and coffee is the most important task on my itinerary at the moment.  

Satellite Radio is messing up my game: I put my pants on just like anyone else - one leg at a time and praying that I maintain balance. I need full body armor or bubble wrap at the very least to perform even the most menial of tasks without ending up in the urgent care. Just like the rest of civilized peoples (I’ll count myself among them today) I have preset radio stations. I do this because I truly love music of all kinds, because I’m inherently lazy by nature and thought of dial turning makes me tired, and because I have a vehicle that offers this so why the hell not?? Certain times of day call for certain types of music. Typically, my morning commute is fueled by the station that they called “Faction.” This glorious station was a columniation of punk and a generous sprinkling of “beats.” You would hear bands like Fugazi, Screeching Weasel, Rancid and Descendants then BLAM you’d get slapped with Tribe Called Quest or Binary Star. It was my Zen.  It died this morning. Or rather I noticed it was dead when I went to put the station on and it had been replaced by Guns and Roses. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME?! An entire station dedicated to this shit band 24/7?! Oh, for fucks sake! I hate you SiriusXM. I want a refund of my $20.00/month so I can get my nails done and listen to the ladies in the nail salon talk shit about me in a foreign language. Extreme? Maybe. Music is my sanity though, and you just stole it. Did I mention this is day 2 of cold showers? FML.

Am I famous yet? While I truly enjoy the rewarding feeling of getting up every morning before the sun and working a solid 8-10 hours without hearing a “thank you” or “nice job” more than once a year – which is at our Christmas party when my boss begrudgingly hands me my bonus check while still holding onto it firmly like he doesn’t want to part ways with it – I’m really over it too. Picking up a paycheck every two weeks that just barely keeps my ass in house and home is great; and don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful…but I would also love to sit on my ass reading all day and tossing grapes into the open mouth of a monkey (because I want a pet monkey – one that won’t eat my face off) while fanning myself with the latest copy of Rolling Stone. You thought I’d say something I had written, didn’t you?? I’m not that arrogant. Yet. There’s always a yet…

Stay humble my friends.