Waiting for the Other Shoe
I am not typically cynical, pessimistic or otherwise negative minded when it comes to my own life (I am, however, bloody minded and arrogant as well as particularly disdainful towards other people), but lately, things have been going fine. Sure, there's the addiction to online gaming, the fact that my temporary bachelorhood is now reaching it's third year and my frightening new ability to have gas after eating everything from apples to air and everything has grown to near-Chernobyl proportions, but other than that ....
Everything is just fine.
In this, I am perhaps a little like George Costanza. I am suspicious now, that something is waiting around the corner, some dread boojum of disaster, something so awful that the mighty Gods have seen fit in their 'wisdom' to allow me some respite until I get hit on the head from a falling piece of frozen airline bathroom ejecta.
Do I want something bad to happen? What are you, nuts? When bad things happen, I get really cranky. Like, Charles Manson cranky. Like Sean Penn beating the shit out of paparazzi cranky. I'm serious, when the world doesn't go my way, the horns come out and woe betide the fuctakrd or the gomer who gets in my way when I am having an 'off' day; if that happens, there will be much muttering and staring at this person when they aren't looking, fervently wishing that an anvil fall on their head.
Maybe it's not natural to expect something triply awful will happen now that I am coasting through the eye of the Existential Storm, but it is certainly the human condition. So I'm going to sit in my corner, sharpen my knives, load my guns, say a few Hail Marys and prepare myself for the coming personal apocalypse, and when it even shows the merest hint of coming at me, I am going to blow the shit out of it, cut it into pieces, flatten the pieces, douse them in high-test jet fuel (ordinary gasohol won't work) burn them into ashes and let any potential misfortune blow away into the winds.
Yeah, that's right. EvilMister has declared War on Bad Luck. 2004 sucked ass through a used septic drainage pump. 2005 will be much better, even if I have to start leaving corpses strewn about my patio in amusing poses.
Until next time, intrepid fans!
Everything is just fine.
In this, I am perhaps a little like George Costanza. I am suspicious now, that something is waiting around the corner, some dread boojum of disaster, something so awful that the mighty Gods have seen fit in their 'wisdom' to allow me some respite until I get hit on the head from a falling piece of frozen airline bathroom ejecta.
Do I want something bad to happen? What are you, nuts? When bad things happen, I get really cranky. Like, Charles Manson cranky. Like Sean Penn beating the shit out of paparazzi cranky. I'm serious, when the world doesn't go my way, the horns come out and woe betide the fuctakrd or the gomer who gets in my way when I am having an 'off' day; if that happens, there will be much muttering and staring at this person when they aren't looking, fervently wishing that an anvil fall on their head.
Maybe it's not natural to expect something triply awful will happen now that I am coasting through the eye of the Existential Storm, but it is certainly the human condition. So I'm going to sit in my corner, sharpen my knives, load my guns, say a few Hail Marys and prepare myself for the coming personal apocalypse, and when it even shows the merest hint of coming at me, I am going to blow the shit out of it, cut it into pieces, flatten the pieces, douse them in high-test jet fuel (ordinary gasohol won't work) burn them into ashes and let any potential misfortune blow away into the winds.
Yeah, that's right. EvilMister has declared War on Bad Luck. 2004 sucked ass through a used septic drainage pump. 2005 will be much better, even if I have to start leaving corpses strewn about my patio in amusing poses.
Until next time, intrepid fans!
posted by Unknown @ 4:57 AM
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