I was at the store the other night and saw a container of Tang sitting on the shelf. I told Jen I was going to buy it. She asked me if I was supposed to drink it due to my diabetes. I figured what the hell, astronauts drink it. It must be healthy. I haven't had Tang since I was a little kid, and then I only got it when we visited my rich cousins. It was as good as I remembered. There's nothing quite like a cold glass of chemical dust mixed up in bad water. MMMMMM yummy.
Anyway that glass of orange goodness got me to thinking about other pleasant childhood memories. Who remembers the Christmas time Coca-Cola song? You know, the one that goes "I'd like to teach the world to sing..." Have you seen what the hipsters have done to one of the few good memories I have of yesteryear? What the fuck is this shit? A bunch of wanna-be hippies dressed up in retro t-shirts with out-dated hair cuts sitting on a Philadelphia roof top singing "I'd like to teach the world to chill..." all being lead by G. Love, some white guy trying to rap and sound black. It's as bad as Madonna singing "American Pie" maybe even worse. It's like all the remade movies. The Dukes of Hazzard was ruined. Is there no originality left? Can't they come up with something new? Why do they have to ruin all the good stuff? Redo some of the bad shit, maybe you'll make it better.
Speaking of making things better. I got to thinking this morning, I'm 41. It's time to make my life better. Not that it's bad, but it could be better. Statistically speaking my life is half over. That gives me 40 years to do all the things I've wanted to do (like rob a bank). Now once you subtract the last ten years because those will be spent in a nursing home, wheel chair bound, trading lies with the other old timers, shitting myself cause I think it's funny that the nurse has to wipe my ass ("pull my finger" has a whole new affect at that age). I'm left with 30 years for fun. I should probably subtract at least 7 years for incarceration. Now I'm down to 23 years. Take away the 9 years my baby boy (T3) has left in school and I've got 14 years. Need to take off about 5 years for surgery and sickness (I'll lose a leg sooner or later due to diabetes, but that's OK, I'll just get a peg) and I've got 9 years left. So 9 years to do everything I want to do.
Now I just need to figure out what exactly it is I want to do. I have a short list, but I'm greedy so I want a bigger list. I'll work on that and let y'all know.
My readership is dropping again. I have nobody to blame but y'all. I guess I'll have to speed up on the posting again. I know I keep saying that but I'm the busiest broke guy I know. All work and no pay makes Trash a dull writer. Money makes me happy. When I'm happy I write. When I write I'm happy. If I could just get paid for writing everything would be fine.
Most of my hits come from Rob's site. I'm hoping it's Harper Collins checking in on me. They better hurry up with an offer before someone else does. Anybody out there wanna publish the memoirs of a fucking freak? Maybe I should post a few more wild stories. Trouble is I want to get paid for my stories. Would y'all buy the book?
It's Christmas time again (not the holiday season). Christmas. Ninety six percent of the people in America celebrate Christmas, so stop with the PC shit and wish someone a Merry Christmas. Although I will admit sometimes I say Crimas, just cause. So in the spirit of giving I'm going to give y'all the chance to ask me anything you want and as much as you want. I will answer the questions truthfully or to the best of my ability or with humor or I just may out and out lie to you. I will at least answer your questions. I will answer on Tuesday. I promise. So let the asking begin and have a Merry Crimas.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment