There is a special time in man’s life when he reaches a crossroad; one direction means that his life will stay exactly the same. While the other direction will have his life staying exactly the same, except he wasted time writing a blog post that no one—not even himself—will should read. For most of the past week, I have taken the first route. Today, I take the path of increased time waste. Apparently I have some time, and it needs wasting.
I promise, PROMISE! that this post will be under 3,000 words. Because, as the long forgotten prophet Sweet Brown exclaimed as she fled the fiery flames cast upon her dwelling by Satan’s Bronchial Demons, “Ain’t nobody got time for that!”
Another stupid brief message from the President and CEO of thesoiledchamois.net, and Soiled Chamois Enterprises, Inc.™
This is a personal opinion post that did not need to be shared, or even written by an extremely insignificant goof with a blog. But here we are.
My silence here on this digital fish wrap of a blog is my gift to you. But I guess that’s over now. Sorry.
Have you ever been stoned at a party, and some drunk dude is losing his shit? Being an obnoxious dick, picking fights, giving everyone his non-expert opinion, etc. And you just sit in a comfy chair and watch it all unfold with a half-smile on your face, unwilling—and potentially unable—to interject an opinion as Yo La Tengo songs drone on in your head louder than the stereo’s actual volume.
Whether you have or haven’t isn’t all that relevant, but that’s sort of how the past three weeks have felt to me. I’ve logged ONE 13-mile rail-trail ride with Wifey, a couple of walks in the woods, and care little.
It seems that the allegorical tale of near drunken death and breast ogling aboard the RMS Titanic was met with less than stellar reviews from my wife. I believe the term she used was, “It was a bit much.” Sigh.
I’m not one to argue with a reviewer, but I think she missed the story’s silver lining, which pointed out that no matter how bad things seem to be, they can sort of maybe work out. But first, a bunch of people are going to die.
Having a plan on Friday proved useless, so I entered Saturday planless and brainless. In other words, it was just me being me.
I was up around 8 for coffee, toast, and a couple of dippy eggs before lubing up Mr. Burgundy (not code for sex) and getting my shit together for a quick ride in the rapidly warming morning sun.
Someday this will all be over. Eventually, I will wake up in the morning and know what day it is, and care what day it is. Someday the country won’t be a polarized and divided dumpster fire, and the name of the orange fuck face in the White House will just be a despicable footnote in the pretty darn, not bad history of our country.
Until that day comes, I will keep doin’ what I do to make life fun: ride bikes, take photos, hike trails, love my wife and kid, watch the footy, drink beer, and make food.
