I am bored out of my skull. I’m all skull right now. Scully and Mulder ain’t got nothin’ on me.
I’m not too big on tv, but when I get into the zone, thasss it. I’m a tube-aholic. I have a fascination with those emergency/trauma room shows, and I don’t even cringe anymore. I found myself thinking meh when they showed a girl who broke her ankle. Just an ankle? Lame. I’m pretty sure I’d pass out into another realm if I had to see those things up close, but through the tv I can hang. I have a lot of respect for doctors and surgeons. They bring people back to life, like some Dr Frankenstein/Jesus shit. I can appreciate that. Jealous.
It takes me a whole 0.5 seconds to know if I have already watched an episode about a scorned lover/sadistic serial killer/evil twins/vindictive ex-cop/grandma who puts a hit out on her grandchildren going nuts-o. It is actually horrifying, what people do to one another. That brings me to another sobering genre of television – the news. Jesus H. Christ, people are crazy. What the hell? Who raised us? What? Everyone always says, well the news only shows the bad stuff. Okay, yeah, but that doesn’t change the fact that horrible things are occurring on a daily basis. Like, it’s normal nowadays for a teacher to hang herself in a classroom? Letting your kid OD on salt is okay? Setting journalists on fire in cages is logical? I am left speechless at what man can do to himself and one another.
I try to read…but I can’t focus long enough to get past the first chapter. I mostly stick to celebrity blogs. And I am sick of seeing kanye and kim and kylie and kendall and kaka and kunt everywhere, but I still click! We live in a time when KIM KARDASHIAN is considered a fantastic business mogul because…she’s attention deprived? She is a mother who treats her kid like a prop? She’s got the ass the size of a bulldozer? I don’t get it. And don’t even get me started on Kanye. Yeezy, you make no fucking sense – speak English. You became irrelevant a few years back, when you started humiliating people on stage and thinking you are a fashion designer and married a goldigga. Get over yourself.
I like jogging but um, yeah, snow and shitty ass drivers. I swear, the entire time that I am out I am thinking or saying Oh come on grandma! Stupid bitch! Learn how to drive! Really? What’s your problem, dude? Don’t be surprised when they find me in a ditch, my heart having exploded through my chest. Or having been rolled over by a tow truck. Seems like they plow through people more than they do snow. Revoke their licenses, I say!
Anyway, my brain suggests I exercise. But my body says chyea right, buddy. Get outtaaa heaaa. I can say that I have started to eat better. But I have this obsession with popcorn, man. I can’t shake it. What’s your poison, they ask. Popcorn, extra butter. I’ve come home with stomach aches and nausea from eating so much popcorn. I have issues. Deep-rooted issues which I am too lazy to dissect.
I actually have a weird shaped skull; it’s kinda flat in the back, a perfect spot for a yamaka. It’s probably from all the times my adoring sisters dropped me on my head. I bet they were one rattling of my little body away from ending up on the news or Dateline. I blame my intellectual deficiencies and mental instability on them.
Anyway, after writing for a little bit…I’m still bored as all heck. I can’t wait for the day when I’m super busy running around like a chupacabra with its head cut off and I’ll reflect back on nights like this and realize what an ingrate I have been.