And so it goes...

still waiting for my hoverboard...

Wednesday, October 20, 2010

Life: Narrated by Sigourney Weaver

So here I sit at my new laptop (Thanks money tree!!) watching LXD via Netflix direct streaming and I ponder/bemoan my very existance.  No I'm not contemplating an OD or sharpening my suicide blades in any way just ticked about Life in general, growing old, being chubby, and having scars (physical and mental)

So I begin...

Genetics are a bitch for starters.  I have a poor hairline.  I'm going bald like most people but it's not happening gracefully.  No widow's peak penninsula of hair here, more like and island chain.  That's right I have Hawaii in folicular form utop my dome.  So naturally I bic it down.  Shaving of the head is annoying, thus I put it off and only do it once a week, twice if there's a special occassion.  Either way it annoys me.

Another tasty tidbit about my lumpy body and genetics is what some fondly refer to as "The Flaherty thighs."  Tree trunks these things are, strong no doubt but still large enough to generate friction in the wrong pants.  So there's also that.

Those are my only to genetic hang-ups, the rest is just bad luck that I am literally going to have to live with until, well until I don't anymore.

I'm also a hairy man, torso hairs everywhere, but not Magnum PI well orchestrated hair, more like the poke through your tee shirt wild mane type.  I have thought about lasering them off but what's underneath aint no picnic either.

I'm not a healthy person.

I don't take good care of my temple.  I eat wrong if at all and just don't treat myself well in that department.  For example, the other day I was leaving work and realized my only sustenance all day was a can of diet Dr Pepper and a 20 oz Mountain Dew.  Driving home wanting to correct such an error of judgement I stopped by Los Favoritos for a quesadilla.  Flour tortilla and about a half pound of cheese, what could go wrong?  Montezuma's revenge.  I was liquid for the rest of the day.  Yes I'm talking bowel movements.  It was a bad call.

I'm trying to right the ship though, I at least drink water now instead of the neverending soda I was drinking in it's place.  There comes a point with water though that you end up just pissing like a fountain.  It's a vicious cycle, but it's better for me I think.

I have also started taking my meals to work, meals in the form of protein shakes.  Sure its bland and no fun to drink your meals but my rational is that it is the foodstuffs of the future.  Think about it, Alien, Firefly, 2001.  They eat protein bars and drink weird gray liquids.  It's boring but it's sustenance.  You don't live to the year 2500something by having 2 tacos and a Jumbo Jack for lunch.

It's not that I'm even FAT per say, although my muffintops have sprouted blueberries, or chocolate chips... yeah they're chocolate chips.

I watch things like UFC, or LXD (Legion of Extraordinary Dancers BTW) and see people at their peak, and this is why they get to do what they do and be with who they're with, because they aren't lazy like me.  In the case of the UFC though I need to temper my expectations because sure this guy is my height and 60 lbs lighter but he doesn't have a job but to train and fight.  If I had nothing else to do all day but exercise I'd... no, who am I kidding, I'd still be doing this.  The fights are a good motivator though and always get me on a week or so jag of wanting to put the time and effort in but then I stop.  My body quits or my mind or both but I just stop.

You know how sometimes you see that 600 pound guy at the grocery store and you say to yourself I wonder if he got to that point when there's no turning back?  Well I'm at that crossroads now.  I'm not super psyched about my body and know If I try hard I will lose some weight and fit into my ever so ironic tee shirts better.  So perhaps today I'll start running again, perhaps.

I have this thing on my face, not a zit, not a mole but this thing that I can see out of the corner of my eye.  It will be there on my face until I die.

I got blackout drunk last May laying out by the pool, I have a farmer's tan across my fat thighs that is still quite prevalent.  Again I suspect it will be there until the day I die.

But my own mortality aside I want to touch on other mild life annoyances.

If I were to find a magic genie lamp or talking fist or whatever the legend is and be granted 3 wishes here's what they would be in order:

1.  I dont want to have to worry about cutting my finger or toenails anymore.
2.  I'm tired of having to wipe my ass, The shitting can be satisfying don't get me wrong but the rest of it, meh, just genie that away.
3.  Cure cancer.

Am I selfish?


What if the genie stops at wish 2 and I never get to cure cancer?  In that case I would raise a well manicured middle finger to said genie and be angry.

Scars, scars, scars.  I was reckless in my youth and did some awful dumb things.  I have a scar on my right hand from putting out a cigarette there on a bet.  I was a masocist and an attention whore which was a bad combo, but here I sit.  I made it through but not without a wide variety of "adornments" the least of which being a line cutting through Oahu from a brain surgery last year.  Now some may call me a hypocrite on account of the tattoos, but those are bad ass and will be even badasser when I'm 90.

Then there are the mental scars.  Everyone has them sure but not everyone has my memory.  I remember everything to the most minute detail.  In some cases this is good, but in most cases not so much.  I am haunted...That's as far into it as I'll go.

Well there we go,  I typed far too much about far too little and have exercised my brain to the point I can start to put in real work.

Until next time.
Mister J

No comments:

Post a Comment