December 31, 2006, At the Smiling Moose

Last night the bar was full of beautiful girls, stunning punker girls. Some heavily tattooed, some heavily chested, some just heavy, and each with a unique sense of purpose. I was only half-cocked and sticking to beer, since New Year’s Eve is really not a good night to get hammered. There’s just too much potential for disaster. So I sat quietly with my wife and some new and old friends at an upstairs table. There was a beautiful red-haired, red-lipped, pale girl telling us a story about getting her nipples pierced. It sounded nice. Better than the music that was playing on the juke box. She drank, breathed smoke, and tossed about armchair philosophy with us. Some things were relevant, some things not. Everybody is a moralist. Everybody rationalizes. It’s all goofy and pointless. There wouldn’t be any insanity for us that night, just talk. That was all I really needed. I was content in it. Today, I don’t even have a hangover as a memento.

Driving Like an Asshole

Sometimes when I’m driving, and my wife is with me, I’ll begin to drive like an asshole just to draw out her criticism. It’s not that I like to fight with her, but at least I’ll be able to participate in the argument that my bad driving will precipitate. I normally only use this technique as a method of curtailing a really long story that she’s telling. I can’t participate in a long, winding, one-sided story. I can only desperately fight to listen. The argument that I’ll precipitate with my bad driving will at least be a discourse between both of us. It will bring us closer together, whereas her long story will only drive us apart.

Drunk at the Mall

Tonight I got buzzed and went to the local shopping mall with my wife. In the back of JC Penny's, near where she was getting the free wrapping paper with the towels that she was buying, they had a bunch of exercise equipment for sale. Complicated machines engineered to help lazy people do sit-ups. So I sat down on one, and started doing some of whatever I think I was supposed be doing on it. When I got up, there was a middle-aged black woman walking past, trying not to laugh at me. I made no effort not to laugh.

Apple

I’ve got an apple, and I’m not questioning it. Like any good fortune, it should simply be accepted and enjoyed for what it is. There is no valuable information or lesson to be learned from belaboring the origins of this apple. I found it in my lunch, which means that I must have put it there myself. What could be questionable about an apple? It’s not complex. When good things find their way into your life, they don’t need explanation.

An Ordinary Crucifixion – No. 4

The woman bagging my groceries was retarded. She was also missing some fingers. They did not appear to have been missing since birth. Their absence looked like the result of some terrible accident. Her right hand was perfect, but on her left hand, each finger ended at the first joint. Her thumb was the same way. She was able to make reasonable use of the little stumps that remained, but she was definitely missing the top two links from each one. She was smiling and bagging and doing an excellent job of it. She was grouping things logically and efficiently. She was more content with her life than I am with mine.