Thursday, July 22, 2004

The last paragraph will make this whole post worthwhile

Maureen Dowd is one of my heros. Sure, sometimes she is formulaic and sometimes she is obnoxious and sometimes she too cliche and sometimes she is too witty and sardonic but I still love her. And today I saw her column and she wrote about Ali G. Who I also love. And she made fun of the president. Who I don't love so much. And that made me love her more. On top of that I saw Borat on Conan a few nights ago and almost peed my pants when he started talking about his chrum. Brilliant really.

I'm trying to do things. I played softball with the magazine team last night. It was fun. I knocked a few out, I drank a lot of beers. We rolled to the bars afterwards. Some girl gave me her number there. She was pretty cute. More hot than cute. Nice low-cut top. I threw it on the trash on the way out. She might have seen me do it. I didn't care. Cause I just wanted to get home.

I want to go out drinking tonight. I won't. Do you ever wonder what happens to the characters in the romantic comedies after the movie ends? Cause you've got that warm fuzzy feeling at the end of the movie but they might break up the next week. Last week I was in the movies. This week I'm not so sure. Facing the reality that the G2K is 2000 miles away wasn't supposed to be that hard. I really didn't expect it to be. But I didn't expect it to be the way it was either. And now the two of us are kinda trying to come to grips with reality. And so the blog also has to come to grips. Damn, it started off so fun. Today two people, who don't even know I have a blog, told me the whole idea of blogging is dumb and scary because all blogs do is leave a trail of incriminating evidence to be used against you later. I told them it's not a problem if most of what you write isn't true. The problem is I'm not doing that. And even if I did I think you would see right through it. This story is just too thick not to be real. I mean fuck, you are reading about my love life. Not my Sex life. My love life. And that's not healthy for people to hear those stories. You can blackmail me later. 

And I will probably regret writing all of this. But I don't care. At least not now. I don't care about so much. I don't care about my job. I care so little I did barley an hour of work the whole 8 hours at the office today. And I sent a billion text messages to the G2K. And when the TMG IM'd me I told her that everything went fantastically well with the G2K and that I like her a lot. Cause I don't give a shit what the TMG thinks. And I might have a bunch of friends but none of them call on the phone and I feel pretty alone. My apartment is empty save the cat. I don't care. And a ticket to 2000 miles away is really expensive but I don't care. I'm going to buy one anyways. This is the part of the story they conveniently leave out. It's when things get hard. And I dunno if the whole "nothing good comes easy" is real or just a load of bullshit. I hope to god it's true or my whole life might have been wasted. And just when I think I might crack I go read The Busblog and I feel better. In case you're too lazy to click the link, I'll just crtl+c and ctrl+v it for you:

two barefoots walk into a bar. first one says, have you ever felt like nothing that you will do will matter. other one says thats not the joke, tell the joke. first one says, and the world will keep spinning and the stars will come up and spin around and go down and still nothing you do peon will matter.
other one says whispering sorta, just say your line, want me to say it for you.
the first one says, the seasons will come and go, time will pass, floods, fire, famine and still nothing that you could have done will matter.
other one says in a way thats sort of liberating.
first one goes ice ages plate technotics wait what?
other one says sure if all of what we're doing is just gonna get mushed over by nature and forgotten by sentient beings then why stress out about bullshit little things like slow people at stoplights.
first one looked at the other one
a gust of wind pushed a low-reaching dry palm of a huge palm tree up against a metal awning rattling the tin for a second and then it eased back down.
a butterfly aimed for an oak leaf and missed
somewhere a car horn sounded
somewhere an eagle was flying with a dove

Maybe it doesn't matter if I fuck it all up. I mean, when I was a kid I was protecting earth with my Transformer Earthforce pals  and keeping the whole world safe without telling a soul, but now, I am older and I'm wiser and I have a lot less responsibility. I though that all I needed to do these days was schmooz and fuck and blog and pretend to work. But man, I guess I gotta love and be loved too. That's what I gotta do. And figure out a way through all those things that most of you are too pussy to write about. The rest of the blogosphere can write about the shit. You can have the sex and the blowjobs and one night stands and the drugs and the drunken stupors and the jobs you hate and fucking politicians you hate and all the stuff that doesn't matter out here in reality and all your superficial bullshit. Cause mother fuckers I got love locked down right over here. And there ain't nothing you can do about it.


Anonymous Anonymous said...

wow, that has to be the most romantic thing i have ever read. If i were that girl, i would be swept away in a heart beat. Thanks for giving us girls some hope.

4:10 PM  

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