GAMES, HEAD AND OTHERWISE
Friday I got into a heated “discussion” with the boss lady at work. She got on me for not oiling the shredder daily and suggested I create a big red sign (she is partial to signs) to tape to the wall so I won’t forget. I usually try to just be nice and cooperative but that day, I just couldn’t. I said I didn’t think it needed that much oil. She’s the only one who uses it…to shred literally one piece of paper a day.
All I could think about the whole time she was criticizing me was how much I wish I had stayed home all day to play Rock Band. Because I could easily do that. My brother and I named our band Puppy Breath and we rock the shit. For real. And I need to get some valuable drum time in. But no…like every other lame adult I have a job.
I played the game of LIFE with my brother and his girlfriend. I think they’ve actually changed it up a bit. Like, in the beginning you can choose to go to school but be $100k in debt or you can opt out of school and get a weak ass “career” like an “entertainer” (clearly a euphemism for ESCORT) or a mechanic. The first game I decided to just join the ranks of the working class and not have any school debt. I also decided I would take a female life-partner and lead my alternative lifestyle raising our twins and bringing home the bacon working hard as a grease monkey. And boy howdy, did I get a dose of hard core reality. Lesbians have it rough and I was not able to excel! There were no cruises with Rosie for my pack. But I did (for whatever horrible reason) have to buy awesome seats at a sporting event. And at the end I had to pay $50k for some life-saving surgery and basically retired broke. My wife fell out of the car a few times which I think was some sort of a bad omen.
The second time ‘round I decided to go to school and I came out a teacher. Which sucks because, as in real life, you get paid peanuts. In some reversal of fortune I became the doctor and whooped on everyone mercilessly. I got people to pay for half of my life-saving surgery, took my kids on that cruise, and sued my brother three times. Lesson learned: unfortunately, to win in LIFE, you’ve got to be an asshole.
I saw my granny today who tried to unload a crap-load of very bad harlequin romance novels on me. She used to be hooked up with some scam artists who send you boxes of these terrible books monthly. She finally cancelled but is now trying to catch up with her reading. I picked out two: The Sheikh’s Secret and Having the Frenchman’s Baby. I picked them for their titles and groovy cover illustrations. The sheikh does not look at all ethnic and he’s hugging some blonde lady by a waterfall. They even tell you what Talique’s secret may be: he wants her to be his bride! Oh grandma. I asked her if they ever have unhappy endings and she looked at me like I was the crazy one and said, “NO. THAT’S WHY I BUY THEM! WHO WANTS SAD ENDINGS?” True that.
Just a bit ago I got a strange little text from my friend that read: “I’m meeting my date and if he turns out 2 be a killer his name is John Wang* and his number is xxx-xxxx cell and his home is xxx-xxxx.” I like precautions. But this one seems a little bit after-the-fact. Still, I’m saving this message.
*Name has been changed to protect the potential killer.