Monday, July 31

Friend-ish & Family.

I Clean Up Nice.

I'm working on the 'wedding' essay as we speak; I expect it to be published either this afternoon or tomorrow morning at the latest.

It contains all the things you'd expect to see in a great story; sex, violence, religion, emotion, theft, drugs, betrayal, sweatiness, fancy suits, gallons of alcohol and a graphic scene of public defecation.

I'm not kidding. I wish I were.

You're not going to want to miss this; check back throughout the day.

In the meantime, sound off in the comments section and tell us about your weekend. Also, try to convince me that Global Warming is a myth.

That picture is terrible!
It's really frightening actually.
It looks sinister, what with the grinning and the apocalyptic background and all. Ironically, this was the face of the guy who did the wedding.

In reality, it's a nice photo of me smiling in front of some shrubbery. I didn't really like the face I was making, so I tweaked it for this 'preview' post.

It's not nearly as funny as the photo I shot of my Mom that night. Don't make me put it up.
I will kill you if you put that picture of me up.

Remember, it's going to be a lean Christmas:)
You look like you are morbidly obese in that picture.

Rest assured, folks, he is morbidly lean in real life.
Every time I make that face, I rock the double-chin like nobody's business. I do it on purpose now; specifically because it's funny to see on a 150 pound dude that's 5'9".
You describe the event, and then say you wish you weren't kidding.

Whatever, dude. Whatever happened there is a dream come true for people like us who love to relate hi-larious stories to other people. Like that time that old woman tried to get me to speak in tongues before she'd rent her filthy, fast-food-dipping-sauces-under-the-bathtub, chicken-bones-under-the-carpet apartment I needed.

Awful at the time, yet a lifetime of great material.
I was just having this conversation with some friends. Much like the UFO Convention, I'm doing things now strictly for essay material.
This past weekend, it was 96 degrees and 63% humidity in the house at 11:00 at night. I was all angry and thinking, "well, this can't possibly get any worse," and then a skunk sprayed outside my window. A hot, wet, enveloping layer of skunk smell just blanketed me, and it was the worst thing ever. Then I realized that even though my life was terrible at the time, at least I'd have an entertaining story to tell....

Such is my life...
Incredible. It's true, though. If you look at things through the lens of being able to tell an interesting story later, you can get through almost anything.

You'd think that it would naturally cool off as it got later in the evening, but no...

You need central air. Or some sort of anti-skunk system. Do they make those?
If you look at things through the lens of being able to tell an interesting story later, you can get through almost anything.

That was theme of Chuck Palahniuk's last book. All the writers were doing everything they could to make sure they would have the best story to tell; as far as chopping off their own fingers and sabotaging their food supply and water systems.

It was a pretty awful book.
Yeah, I heard that book was no good.

It's true, though. After all the bizarre stories I gained from working at the hardware store, I still consider getting little side jobs strictly for the essay opportunities. Part-time retail things like working at the mall or Blockbuster at nights. Not for money or anything; just for the life experience and story potential.

The best part is that I could quit whenever I wanted and move onto another crappy job; all while keeping my 9-to-5 job. The Missus hates this idea, but it's always lingering in my head. I've always wanted to work at a movie or record store.

Maybe I could do an American Beauty-style thing and just devolve into something that I was overqualified for. I'm down with that, provided I get an interesting book out of it. I'm fresh outta life experiences.
That's funny...I've always "day dreamed" about doing that with a side job. But then I look back and I realize that I've already worked at:

-A roller rink called "Skate Express," and had to wear a "Where's Waldo"-style red and white striped shirt with a name tag that said, "Rollin' Fun For Everyone!"

-A factory that made air ride suspensions for big rig trucks


-A construction company where I had to weld and use other fire tools when it was 115 degrees outside (Bonus: I literally set myself on fire 8 times that summer. Extra Bonus: It was so hot outside I never even noticed I had set my clothes on fire until most of it had burned away

-Working for the State of Washington as a cherry inspector

There's lots more, but now I'm just sad.

And amused.
A while back, I did a wildly popular essay about all the jobs I've had. I demand you do the same, as your jobs sound far more interesting and quirky than mine.

Cherry inspector. Awesome.
Yeah, I remember reading that blog entry. I should do the same.

The funniest thing about the cherry inspector is that I didn't even realize how funny it sounded because I was just so used to terms like that being from an agricultural area. Just like when I was growing up, my church Youth Group leader was a bull semen salesman, and I didn't think anything about that until I told someone "from the city."

Maybe I'll combine the two and become a cherry inspector that sells bull semen.
Oh, and that smattering of jobs I listed is indeed short. Don't get me started on things like when I had to hose off the 7-11 parking lot at midnight on Fridays. My life has indeed been odd.
These are the things that interest me the most; get working on that post. Hey, that rhymed.

When I think "Cherry Inspector," I think of a guy with a hat, lab coat and magnifying glass.

I grew up on a dairy farm, so I'm no stranger to the Bull Semen Salesman.
"I'm No Stranger To The Bull Semen Salesman: The CDP Story."

I like it. Yes I do.
If that's not the best opening sentence for my autobiography, I don't know what is. If the people don't want to keep reading after that, then there's really nothing more I can do for them.
My cousin's husband works at a bull-semen factory...or whatever you would refer to that industry as.
It's more commonly known as an Alabama Amusement Park.
Thanks. It took three days, but I finally worked a joke into this comment section.

Post a Comment

<< Home