It’s dark and gray outside…just like my soul.
Back when I was 16 a couple buddies and I would get bums to buy us 40oz’s and then we’d go to the neighborhood park to drink, smoke cigarettes and play cards. This was usually on weekends or Fridays after school. It was typical teenage male-bonding; beers, boredom and indifference. So the guy above in the picture, with his balls peeking out…. WTF, right? Funny you should ask… I was on Reddit’s WTF site (always fantastic WTF there, never disappoints) and I saw the picture. It got me thinking.
Every now and again when the fellas and I would hit the park, this older guy would sometimes wander over and make conversation. If my hazy-at-best memory serves me correctly, he wasn’t terrible. Sometimes he’d play cards, or bum us smokes. He usually had good stories about chicks, rock and roll, parties, the 60’s, etc… But for crying out loud, the dude would ALWAYS be sporting Chest Rockwell shorts that were so short and tight, they’d be unacceptable at a cocaine/pool party in the Valley even. Jack Tripper would talk shit to you if he saw you in them. The guy’s balls would peek out every time. Every. Fucking. Time. We’d make fun of him, call him gross, etc. when he’d leave, but we never said anything to him directly.
Seeing the pic of your grandpa with his balls out
The recent abundance of kid-touchers and pedophiles in the news
Me realizing that the dude from the park was predator, had to be.
It’s amazing, how effectively Humans can bury (potentially) traumatic memories in the nether-regions of our subconscious. The self-preservation instincts we all share, and the mechanisms we employ to maintain them are nothing less than fascinating. It’s a double edged sword though. On the one hand, my brain deserves a cookie for blocking out disturbing memories of an old pervert giving us cigarettes as part of a plan to try to fuck us. (and cookies for all the horrible shit that I can remember, but not in vivid technicolor…I’m thankful for this) On the other hand, and this may not apply to all of you, but the walls that I have up to keep my demons at bay do a fucKing great job of blocking out other important things too.
Great Wall of Apathy
17 years of drug and alcohol abuse
Me not knowing how to communicate my insecurities and problems to my wife or even to myself.
I envy people with good coping skills. Coping is fucking hardcore. Jesus Christ, who slipped the Emo pills into my coffee this morning? Now if you’ll pardon me, I’ll be listening to Bright Eyes alone and doing that back-n-forth thing autistic kids do at the loser kid lunch table.
Here’s a list. The internet loves lists.
The Top Ten Things That Are Weighing Negatively On Mike Apathy, Saturday December 19th.
1. The Raiders should be embarrassed that they missed the playoffs.
2. Tim Tebow. My God is the guy obnoxious. I’m pretty sure his head would explode if you broke it down to him that realistically, Jesus Christ looked way more like Bin Laden than John Elway. (I explained this to a racist skinhead once…the look on his face was beyond priceless) Am I a bad person for genuinely disliking someone, who by all accounts, is probably a really stand-up guy? Fuck it. There’s no such thing as hell, so what am I worried about.
3. The Jealous Sound played the Echo a few days ago and I missed it because I’m broke.
4. School sucks.
5. My mom’s health problems. (she’s gonna be fine, but I’m an only child and I’m stressing the fuck out)
6. Traffic on the 57 tonight on my way back from Upland.
7. Christmas and the expectation that we all need to be so damn cheerful.
8. All the assholes that seem to be finishing first in this country.
9. Nobody will pay me a 6 figure salary for blogging on the Hamstring.
10. The botched Chris Paul trade that chaffed Lamar and sent him to the Mav’s. Bullshit. Collusion.
That’s it for me…and if those are the problems I feel the need to bitch about, save for a couple serious ones, I’m doing pretty fucking good. Enjoy some funny pictures.
This is Mike Apathy signing off.