Monday, July 10, 2006

He's gonna make it to a Benz out of that Datsun, he's got that ambition baby look in his eyes, this week he's mopping floors, next week it's the fries

Damn, I had a birthday the other day. I hate getting older. I'm 23. Do you know what that means? That means half of my life is over already. I haven't even done anything worthwhile yet. Oh well, maybe I'll get there someday. Just a couple of things today. First, I realized that it's only 2 months until I get married. Now, this concerns me just a little bit. It's not the whole "I'm never gonna be with another woman again" thing. Trust me, it was hard enough to find one girl dumb enough to have sex with me, I'm really not thinking that there's two out there. So that's not the issue. The issue is the whole being a guy thing I guess. When I met my future old lady, I lived in a place that had a stack of pizza boxes as a coffee table and huge stolen orange barrels as end tables. I think I had a bed, but I'm not sure. I had a couch, but it was pretty rough. The thing of it is, I liked that. I liked having to wear shoes to walk around in my place so you didn't step on broken glass. I liked the fact that at my old place you felt dirtier after taking a shower. But now I am pretty organized, well she is anyway. It's really strange. Everything has a place and our bed has sheets and they actually match, pillows and all! I think I had my He-Man sheet set until I was 19 or so (those piss stains from being a little kid, OK fine nervous teen, were hard to remove). We have silverware that wasn't stolen little by little from my parents. My lips and tongue don't bleed when I take a drink from a glass anymore. I guess change can be good, but I still want an apartment in the city that I can leave filthy and have posters of naked ladies at. Kristen made me take the ones in our living room down, shortly after her mother arrived for a visit. Oh, and how many damn towels do we need hanging on the rack? There's like 7 and they all are different sizes. Tip: Don't try drying with the smallest one, it takes forever. Weird.

Last thing! Where the hell was I when this organic food thing hit? And who the hell do I kill for it? Now for those of you who don't know, organic food is this new craze that people are eating because it's all natural. The food hasn't been treated with pesticides and stuff, I guess, I don't really know. All I know is that in the D.C. area where I live, it is like crack for rich white people. I should start dealing organic milk on the street after hours, I'd make a killing. It's not so much the concept I hate, well yeah it is, but it's more so the consumers of the organic food. See, it doesn't stop at milk or eggs or what have you. There are organic cookies, cereal, fruit, peanut butter. I'm still waiting for organic liquor, I'm sure that's coming. Now customers that are in search of these products (I work at a grocery store so I know) are crazy. Not some of them, I'm gonna do what I do best and generalize...all of them are crazy. If they don't have their organic food, they just don't know what to do. I love it when I'm out of something that is organic and there's only one kind of organic variety. I'll suggest the "non organic national brand" and watch them freak out. It's like offering methadone to a heroin addict. Same concept, but only useful in rehab. "I'm sorry sir we don't have any of the organic potato chips, might I suggest this bag of cool ranch doritos?" "NOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!" Fucker. Speaking of sir, the whole thing of men eating organics drives me freaking insane. You are a man for Moses sake. Eat a damn steak or burger or something. Come on! The next guy I see with organic alfalfa(sp?) sprouts, organic milk and "cage free chicken" organic eggs, I will ask him to leave and come back when he has his testicles. People who know me, you know I hate many things, such as my life, traffic, people in general well you can bump organic food to the top of the list. Now make me a damn steak, bloody as hell. If the vet can save it, it's too done. It better be mooing at me when you bring it out and I stab it with my knife. I'm outta here, don't send me presents, I'm too depressed.