There I was, slaving away at work, which has for some reason come to involve a lot of work lately - wtf is that about? All of a sudden instead of ten minutes of checking email and maybe twenty minutes of looking something work-related up on the internet, I now have hours worth of work to do EVERY DAY. I know, who could believe it? But there I was, make it 30 seconds ago now, when it suddenly hit me: I don't feel like working right now. It hit me with a delightfully comfortable impact, like landing on your head in a Moonbounce, when you think it's really going to hurt but then it's just air-filled and cushy, and you don't even realize until hours later that you may have sprained your vertebrae or your job standing or whatever.
Anyway, for now, I'm just going to enjoy the fact that the impact didn't break my neck and worry about the cosmetic complications of wearing a neck-brace tomorrow, when my boss slaps my face, handcuffs me to my desk and stands behind me all day watching me type and humming the Jaws theme.
Jeez, what is with me and stupid metaphors lately? It's like I've fallen into a giant bin of applesauce and I can't convince the pygmy African tribesman to throw me the extra set of snowshoes because he thinks I'm racist or something. (The applesauce is bad figures of speech, the snowshoes represent reason, and I think the tribesman is a box of buffalo wings.)
Did you know that most people are ugly? I think I've mentioned this before, but it bears repeating. Next time you're walking down the street, take a good look at the people around you: crooked teeth here, a pot belly there, neck flap yonder, lazy eye there, someone with different-colored skin here, a cripple there.
Odds are, if you're a person, you're ugly. So forget about next time you're walking down the street - the next time you're in front of a mirror, look a little closer. Do you have body image issues? because you probably should.
I noticed the fact on Sunday when I was out obscenely late down in Chicago. There I was, hanging out by the bathroom door of a late-night bar, watching my friends get hit on by random dudes. And you know what? They were all ugly. (Not my friends... well, they're kind of ugly.)
Some of these friendly guys were even cool, bought us all drinks, did shots with us, but then at the last moment, when one of them would do the awkward guy-on-guy ask-for-phone-number - because you know, this was fun and we should hang out and get drunk again some time - I'd just think, "no. You know, you're cool, but you're ugly." And I look down on ugly people.
There was even this chick who wanted to be on me, or maybe inside me, I don't know, she was doing all kinds of weird scrunchy winky faces that either meant "I'm digging you" or "I'm digging you a grave in my head right now" and she kept sucking the straw in her drink so hard she was puckering up and her eyes were bulging so she looked like a fish, and it was about that time that I thought, you know, maybe the priesthood wouldn't be so bad. Especially if I could only offer the Tridentine Mass (facing the altar) and hear lots of confessions (from behind the screen) so I didn't have to look all the ugly parishioners in the face.
And also, if I ever start a band, it's going to be called Neck Flap Yonder.