The Middleman
All-you-can-eat does not necessarily mean eat-all-you-can or you-can-eat-all. I know a guy who got thrown out of a Chinese buffet joint for eating food for four hours straight. They said he was eating too much. Everyone has a limit. If the buffet restaurant says, “Hey, buddy, you gotta get out of here; we’ve ran out of white rice,” then you need to slow down. Slow the &*^% down. Your heart is calling your cell phone now. Answer it. Too stuffed to reach for it? Never mind, then. Your Bluetooth connection can’t get around your stomach to the phone? I’ll just call 911. And a tow truck.
I’ve always been interested in history. Anything from ancient Kush to Timbuktu to China to Rome. All of it intrigues me. Some of it confuses me, too. Ancient Greece. First of all, being a sports fan, any civilization that invented the Olympics is a friend of mine. However, one of my favorite Olympic sports, track and field, was performed a little awkwardly back in those days of old. The ancient Greeks liked for all track participants to be men. Only men. Women weren’t even allowed to watch. All runners were completely naked. So a relay team, 4 men, would run around completely naked. I wonder what their times were. You may have less wind resistance that way. Running around naked is just strange. Nevertheless, a relay team should have only one baton, not five.
If your priest/pastor/clergyman/pope/reverend/rabbi/esteemed religious official wears a ton of jewelry, drives a futuristic car, owns a jet, lives in a mansion, has a pinky ring, or rocks a gold tooth, any of which happens to be worth more than the GNP and yearly oil earnings of Saudi Arabia, then you should start your own church and cash in, too. He may be helping you get to heaven or whatever afterlife destination you believe in, but you’re really helping him out with that lush beach house in the Caribbean. I’m not saying that all men/women of the cloth are suspect. That’s not the case at all. But when I personally saw a preacher with more diamonds than De Beers do a wedding and then hop in his pimped out BMW, just to drive about 25 feet to the reception hall, I decided that it was time for me to start a religion. Here I am, just like every other hard-working MySpace reader, paying these crazy bills and “budgeting” my next paycheck when I know it’s already spent…when, really, I could just go to the top of a mountain and tell all of my followers to give me money. If someone asks me a question about salvation or anything “religiousy,” my immediate and only response would be, “Have you paid your membership fee yet?” How does it sound? I don’t know. It might not be a good idea. Yeah? You agree? Right. I know. I was thinking the same thing. I’m sort of scared of heights. That standing-on-the-mountain bit might not fly.
One day, within a few minutes, a bird crapped on my arm; a grocery store worker dropped a 12-pack of Mountain Dew, which exploded and sprayed all over my back; and a rain cloud (on a clear day) out of nowhere poured down on my bald head. Are those signs of good luck?
If I see you working out at the gym…then I see you at the Cheesecake Factory killing some poor, decadent cheesecakes, don’t look at me like I’m gonna rat you out to the Guilt Fairy. Cause I will. That’s right. I’m the gym’s tattletale. You’re the one that was bragging about how lean you were gonna be and how you were gonna stick to your workout regiment. You’re the one that’s gonna feel bad. You’re the one that’s crying on the inside. You’re the one that’s gonna have to work harder to lose that weight. Not me. I’m a paragon of perfect persistence. Intestinal fortitude. I’m — what’s that you say? Huh? What was I doing in the Cheesecake Factory? Uhhh…ehhh…that’s not important. I was…I was…bird watching. Where are my binoculars? You just gonna mess up the point I was trying to make?!! F%k!!
Note: If you can only park diagonally, then you should not try to parallel park. It’s basic geometry. On the way to watch Transformers, a friend and I saw a Transformer. Almost. This guy was trying to put his minivan in between two compact cars. Apparently, he must have been pretty scared that he was gonna hit them, because my man’s foot had an epileptic seizure on the brake pedal. The minivan was jerking so much that I thought that it was gonna transform into Optimus Prime. His minivan was an Autobot. Its squeaky brakes supplied us with the transforming sound effects and everything. I was laughing so hard I got a cramp in my neck and damn near threw out my back. Everyone can’t parallel park. Just keep circling the parking lot like a parking shark. You’ll find somewhere to park. Eventually. Just beware of the Decepticons (tow trucks, meter maids, boot guy, etc.)
If I’m frowning when you see me, don’t ask me if I’m having a good day. It should be obvious that I’m not. That’s why we have faces. A facial expression is the middleman of what we like to call “life.” Life’s middleman. The intermediary. The go-between. Faces effortlessly broker silent deals with other faces so that you won’t have to endure too much stress, face rejection, or have stupid conversations. We use them all the time. When you approach a love prospect, doing your 1970s-style winks, talking all smooth, laying down your best game, and that person looks at you as if you have a 3 1/2 feet long booger hanging out your nose, that person does not want to be bothered. I’ll sum it up for you. Me + Frowning = Things probably ain’t going too well that day. Maybe that blister on my toe popped or I just ran out of Raisin Bran Crunch that morning. Who knows? It could be anything. Instead of asking me if I had a good day, I rather you say, “Have a better day,” “Hey, it can’t get any worse,” or “Smile, ya big bastard!” All those will suffice. At least they’re not stupid. The next person that asks me if I’m having a good day while I’m visibly grimacing will have the unfortunate, yet rare experience of watching reptilian wings sprout out of my back, seeing me morph into my original Pterodactyl form, and screaming for dear life as I chase ’em around the 99 cent store.
Think Ink|Thinq Inq 