There are so many intelligent and articulate people covering the hard-hitting
issues in our country these days, that I felt it was my duty to cover the
rather inconsequential bullshit that tends to make up the vast majority of
our lives. Actually, I'll just be griping a lot which, if you weren't aware,
doubles as a synonym for complaining, and as a descriptor for
a sharp pain in the bowels.

Thursday, January 12, 2012

That Song We Would Sing in Elementary School

It appears it is a small world after all. This isn't quite a revelation to me as within this very blog I feel as if I am making note of this. I certainly bring it up in day-to-day life in conversation with other humans. But yes, there is a guy sitting in this coffee shop wearing a Svedka vodka promotional shirt for their idiotic "Party Like it's 2033" campaign, complete with weird robot lady and other tags like "bot or not." But the thing about it is I think it's my shirt. See at an open mic a little before Christmas, I was eager to unload a couple of promotional bar shirts I've acquired in the last couple of years, this among them. I have far too many shirts as it is, mostly because I never get rid of anything (case in point, the New Found Glory t-shirt I am wearing purchased the summer of 2003) and so I figured I would unload these. Most aspiring comics are flat broke as they are working some sort of rather crap job that affords them the freedom to stay out late at night pursuing comedy, to take off days when need be for the same reason, and also the misery and monotony from which a lot of comedy is borne (my own tends to more borne of oddity).

And this dude looks familiar too, meaning I have probably seen him at open mics. But I'm pretty good with faces, so everybody starts to look familiar, even people I've just seen once walking down the street. It's the idiot writer in me trying to analyze and create stories from the smallest shreds of observation. At any rate, I can't think of any jokes he has told.

There is also another guy seated even closer to me that I know for certain is a comic. We have met in passing, he probably recognizes me, but it's in that manner of running into someone you sort of knew in high school after. Neither really wants to say hello and each is kind of relieved when the other says nothing. But because we're seated we periodically have to look at each other, which is weird, especially while he sits there with his girlfriend. Furthermore, not long ago I had a recognition stand-off with this very same comic in a pharmacy chain. The individual I was with on that occasion asked why that man seemed to be staring at me/us and I explained that we recognized one another, but neither was really going to say something. It's sort of blameless and just how things like that are. So it goes.

Otherwise it's snowing. First snow of 2012! Don't you love when people point out firsts all the time and stuff? Oh come on curmudgeons we can't get mad at everything can we, but then you have to get mad at some things. Or do you? And connecting by similar distastes and dissimilar distastes is how the world works when we're not connecting on similarity of likes and dissimilarities of likes. And it is the first snow, and it was sort of glorious to run in this morning for both the crunch of planting foot on fresh, packable snow, and for the awesome little ice and snow cap that formed in my hair, complete with me running in short shorts, like a true asshole. You know what they say, life's short...and so are my shorts.

Dude just asked me to keep an eye on his computer. I am moving up in the world in trustworthy appearance, in spite of my pink, youth large t-shirt.

If you're in this cold, grab yourself some cocoa or something and warm up while you chill out.

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