The Pessimist, the Cynic, and the Ne’er Do Well
Please….shut up already, you leech, you vampire, you succubus. I can feel you draining all of my optimistic soul with your chronic complaining and pessimism. Yes life is a struggle, I get it. Just stop talking about how miserable your life is and DO something about it.
I have my own issues to contend with. I’m making positive strides forward, then you come along with your black cloud of mope and despair overcasting my day. Fortunately, I have one of those pro golf sized “mental umbrellas” to keep me dry from your gale force tirades of drama. Spare me your relationship episodes, you’re not David Duchovny on Californication. I could care less about how your wife emasculates you….wait, what did you call it, “she’s assertive and likes wearing the pants” so instead of watching the playoffs Sunday afternoon, you’re down at the flea market shopping for discounted trinkets and bootleg romantic comedy dvd’s.
The next person to attempt to trample one of my good spirited days with their “cup is almost empty” demeanor, deserves a Rick James to Charlie Murphy open handed slap. Seriously. I’m on a mission. Because your train derailed, you want to plant bombs on my tracks? If life is sooooo bad, give up. Stop trying. Kill yourself. More food for us. Still here? Pussy…or is it that your life isn’t that bad afterall huh?
The next step isn’t so easy. Depressing people travel in packs, infecting others like a virus adding to the collective. You have got to break away from the other crabs if you want to change your mindset. And don’t think they won’t notice. “why’d you stop calling? oh, you too good to hang with us now? Hey I just wrecked my car for the 3rd time can I get a ride? Hey girl, so and so was talking about you. I just wanted to let you know. What’s up man, I just quit my bullshit job. Naw, I ain’t got nothing lined up just yet tho…mind if I hang out for a few days?”
Good luck escaping. If you did manage to escape, your circle is extremely smaller now isn’t it? Google+ won’t be happy (lol if you don’t get that it’s ok, the joke wasn’t for you).
I had an intellectual discussion with a good friend of mine last night until 3am. It’s amazing what conversations stem from Grand Marnier and blue mist hookahs….I digress, where was I? One topic involved goals, aspirations, and the means to reach them. Have you met yours? what prevented you? what’s stopping you now? At what point do you concede? the conclusion obviously, is that the infrastructure of any goal you set forth is planning. Then it hit me like a ton a bricks. 35-40% of the people I knew, didn’t plan for shit. Most of them are already out of my life, the few remaining handful will probably become case studies for this blog in the near future.
It’s 2012 people. time to become extremely independent and get off the teat. Bad things will happen soon. PLAN AHEAD.(damn have I been infected by the cynics?) Time to develop some survivalist skills just in case of some post apocalyptic scenario. I recommend the three H’s. Hunting, Horticulture and Whoring…yes yes I know, I know. It was just fun to say.
Through playing with y’all.
Anatomy 101
I had a bit of an epiphany in the gym this morning. It dawned on me that most people go their entire lives without realizing what their very own bodies are physically capable of. It’s funny to me. Mainly because in my youth, I was literally thin as a walking stick. Had it not been for that fateful day in Chicago at the Naval base, where I (a basketball fanatic) was dunked on by a semi pro player.
That pivotal moment changed me. Angered and blinded by the fact that someone broke through my defense, I subbed out and left the court…right into the weight room. while the 1st two years were a clueless waste of time, the next 13 years became a crusade to become bigger and stronger. Years of muscle sprains, tendonitis, deep tissue massages, and gallons of protein later, here I am remaining steadfast on my personal crusade to be the fittest I can be.
But not most people….the average person doesn’t think about it until a fit person walks up next to them. Then there’s a moment of self-pity that’s quickly forgotten as soon as the “hot and fresh doughnuts” sign lights up at Krispy Kreme.
The human body can do sooo much! It’s astounding the amount of resiliency and strength it has. It can be shaped and molded, made stronger, faster. It can endure miles and miles of running. Each and every person has their very own machine to tweak and customize as they see fit. But 89% of you don’t. It’s the equivalent of taking a Ferrari and letting it sit for years exposed to the elements.
I’m curious. What’s it like? You know, getting old AND weak/feeble. I’ve got the old part down pretty well. The weak and feeble part, mmmm… not so much. If I had to guess, I’d say it’d be like the aging male lion succumbing to a younger stronger male lion over rights to the pride/pack. It’s a safe bet that there will be no young studs taking over my pack ANYTIME soon. God willing, working out will be a staple in my life, as much as breakfast and sex. (and I’m not trying to give that up anytime soon either)
Extend your life/livelihood. Take care of your body as you would your car, house, your lawn….whatever you deem of value and importance to you.
Train hard. Indulge later.
Resolute Ideas
2010 is over. Thank God. It’s been a rollercoaster ride from hell, from natural disasters to the ongoing ever present recession, things have not been nice (putting it mildly). Nevertheless tonight, err….tomorrow begins a new year, new beginnings, new chances, new opportunities and for a lot a people, new resolutions.
I can tell my age is catching up to me. Because this year, my resolution is so far removed from the norm, it signifies the next step in my learning process. my own personal maturation in life. Or to repeat what my wife says “my Buddhist Monk” like ways.
As much as our President has touted change, I fear there will be none. At least not in our lifetime or not in the manner in which we expect. And that got me to thinking….why? Really, why can’t we change? As a whole, once we reach adulthood most people are set in their ways like super glued concrete shoes, only changing when traumatic events unfold.
Our only chance is our children.
Children are full of creativity and ideas that are unrestricted by boundaries and prejudices. Children can provide the change we need to TRULY make this world a better place. It starts at home, in your neighborhoods, in your cities. Stop dashing your child’s dreams. Give them positive reinforcement all of the time. Support their goals. Teach them. They are apt to learn life quicker from you than from a stranger in the form of public schooling.
My New Year’s resolution? To inspire all youth. Whenever and wherever I can.
Think for a second if we all did that, what would begin to transpire. So instead of trying to lose 10lbs off your fat ass in a gym program that you won’t stick with, why not volunteer at a local Boy’s and Girl’s club? Or start a tutoring program? There’s also Big Brothers/Sisters programs.
I can’t be the only person who can see that as a whole, adults have failed miserably. It’s time to hit the reset button and give our children a chance to right our wrongs.
What’s YOUR New Year’s Resolution?
I’ll have what she’s having…
I’m going to walk a very narrow line regarding this topic. You know how you hold an intervention for a drug user and they lash out at you? Well…..let’s just say denial isn’t just a river in Africa.
This topic goes out to Bridget and Mindy who threw this topic at me like plates at a Greek wedding.
Why is it that some women have relationships with men who are already in one.
Let’s examine our subjects, shall we?
The Man: He’s happy at home but….something’s missing. He’s not trying to work things out by communicating and he’s not leaving either. (yes, there are different variations, but hey….I’m not writing a book here.) consider this the default characteristic.
The Woman: chronic bad relationship finder, insecure, leads with her emotions. couldn’t find a good man if you put her in the million man march. And since women are more complex than men, I’ll offer more than one variation to her characteristics. The second type: fiercely independent, controlling, likes an “even table” (i’ll come back to that later). She snatches opportunities and doesn’t care who is cannon fodder. The third type: the platonic friend who’s the “oops how did we get in this bed” chick. She’s not in it emotionally. She’s in it for the diznik…
We all know some of these people don’t we? Or you probably do, and don’t realize what their Modus Operandi actually is. But the question (before I dive off into a tangent) is why? I’ll answer that question with another question. Why is it that women’s menstrual cycles sync up after being in prolonged proximity of one another?
“She who ovulates first, has the babies”…doesn’t make a bit of sense does it? Until you factor in we (both men and women) have a genetic primal code built right in our DNA. REPRODUCE AT ALL COSTS. So the syncing is a matter of competition in a sense, because if you’re not ovulating….somebody else is. And that someone else is getting the man you wanted for yourself. Then there’s that damned shortage. Macy’s had a sale on men and all you had left to pick from was the clearance rack.
We’re much more civilized than our cavemen brethren, so we don’t act on our primal urges, but our body still responds as it has for a milennia. The competitive gene is still there, affecting your judgment and emotions and most importantly your logic. And let’s not forget about those ticking time bombs that are set to explode sometime in your late 30′s, early 40′s….yes, I’m talking about your ovaries.
Now along comes Jimmy Valiant. Man, he’s a nice guy. nice job. nice teeth. He’s tells you all about his family, and the fun they’re having. If only your last ex- boyfriend wasn’t so into feet and vegetable dip, you could’ve had all that. And he’s got nothing on Jimmy….He’s attractive, and he’s all but drunk off the amount of pheromones wafting off you like a hot pie in a window sill. tick…tick…tick, damn it’s not your watch! Uh oh, you can’t be cramping now….no worries, its your fallopian tubes doing pilates, getting ready. Why on earth is your body doing Kegel’s right now?!?
Then it happens. Something that shouldn’t have but did, you feel guilty but you are enjoying yourself waaaaay too much to stop. It can’t end good can it? Just listen to any country music and/or blues song to find out how it ends.
And there you have it. Thank you Bridget, Mindy, and this bottle of Moscato I finished off, while writing this entertaining piece on the fly. Hit me up on Facebook again, and I’ll pen any topic you throw at me. Just don’t count on the accuracy….kidding!!! I’m right all the time.
Deuces.
More Cushion for the Pushing?
Any other day, I’d bypass this subject and wouldn’t think twice about it. I’m sitting at home sick as a dog, channel surfing. I see the Tyra Banks Show (damn, she is still fine!) about women loving men with big bellies. And then the subject was broached on Facebook. So I have to ask ladies…REALLY?
Because I heard a lot of lies. lies. lies. Maybe it was to save face, or maybe it was the fact that they no longer consider their lover’s body part of the equation of love. Maybe it’s all about the dollars and to hell with the body. I don’t know, I’m just trying to gain a little perspective.
See…I know without a shadow of doubt that some women don’t like skinny guys. I used to be just that. Being skinny as a rail, trying to talk to a dimepiece is a futile attempt no matter what your charming smile or winning looks have done for you in the past. Some women don’t roll that way. They want a physical man who can handle himself and be able to bring food to the table. I get that.
But beer bellies? I’m heavily into the gym/fitness thing and I am a pretty sizable guy. At 42 years old, 232lbs, I still have no gut. Am I to believe, I’d lose out to the fat guy at the end of the bar with a bucket of Natural Light beer? To quote the fictional senator Clay Davis from HBO’s the Wire, “shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiit.”
Muscle>Fat everyday, all day.
Guys, PLEASE do not fall into this sitcom reality TV show/facebook tomfoolery. Get your asses in the gym. Nevermind what women think….ok scratch that(what was I thinking), consider your own health for a minute. Abdominal obesity can kill you (indirectly). Not to mention affecting the lead in your “pencil”. It’s a sure sign that your estrogen levels are rising. And I’m hoping I don’t have to break THAT one down to you.
Our abs are quite useful. When you find them again, you can email me and thank me for getting rid of your back pain and improving you sex life. Abs act as a stabilizer for your torso and a gyroscope for your….hell, if you didn’t know all this time, you might be outta luck on the latter.
Ladies (just the ones that like big men), tell your man the truth, yes you want a big man for the comfort and joys of life. One that can also handle himself and protect you. A guy that can be that “blanket” you want. You don’t want a guy who runs around making jokes about his “tool shed”. Encourage your big man to go walking, ease him into the cardio. Before you know it, he’ll be able to “see” himself again and won’t have to reach blindly for it.
Am I too harsh? Probably. Am I an insensitive ass? Definitely. Listen I know there are conditions which prevent some men from exercising and/or eating right. To those guys, I’m sorry…this isn’t meant for your eyes. I’m strictly referring to those 30-40 somethings who are fully ambulatory yet down kegs of beer at happy hour, talking about “yeah I’m gonna start working out again”. Meanwhile their wives and girlfriends are on the Tyra Banks Show talking about, “Tyra, my big bellied man is putting it down”.
“Shiiiiiiiiiiiiit”.
Mid-Life Madness
I’m bored.
In less than 12 hours I’ll age another year, and yet I am completely unfazed. All the rhetoric surrounding birthdays is designed to do what exactly? The cakes, the parties, the sheer drunkeness (if that’s your kind of thing) is supposed to be a celebration of life? Or…is all the fanfare and festivities just a mere distraction from what you should be doing. Self evaluation. a gut check. I like to think of birthdays as milestone markers where I take out my compass and see what direction in life I’m headed in.
My friends think that I become a somber cynical rattlesnake the days surrounding my birthday. The truth… my eyes are wide open to everything. In my deepest moments of self reflection, I see things from an “outside looking in” standpoint where I become super critical of myself and the world as I see it. All the facades, all the bs we normally take on the chin, all the societal dances that we do, all fade away for me during this time. I gotta tell you, it’s all funny as hell. Straight up comic relief. I can’t help but to laugh at the lengths we go through. Why? to get a job? to get a date? to get the respect you deserve? to be someone else’s idea of a “good” person? Every year, I take a step away from the “norm”. And when I look back, I say to myself, “what the hell was I thinking?!”
Man, why couldn’t I have had this mentality 20 years ago? We all say it, Hindsight is 20/20. I’ve actually come to realize that wouldn’t have been a good move for me. I know now that it was, and still is the journey not the destination, that’s where all the fun stuff happens. The path lesser walked. Google maps ain’t gonna get me there.
This upcoming year I’m going off-road. See ya in 2010.
PS. Shout outs to the drunken Christmas carolers of Middleburg, Florida. FYI, ghetto rednecks, booze and a tortured version of “Silent Night” is not a good look. lmfao. WHO FRIGGIN CAROLS THESE DAYS?!? I should add…with sincerity. I still love you guys tho…
What’s that smell?
I’m really trying hard to be as unbiased as I possibly can when I say this: Ladies…desperation is not a good look. I should probably elaborate a bit more, “being desperate in getting a man” is not a good look. Yeah, I know there are guys who are just as desperate, but I’m not one of them and I’ll be damned if I hang around those losers, so I ain’t writing about them…yet.
I can smell it you know (no, not the Dolce & Gabanna or that Avon knockoff), the desperation. Seeping outta their pores like next day tequila. That 4th quarter hurry up offense to score…A woman’s game clock, it’s a shame there’s no overtime…. Ovaries, apparently are like time bombs. You gotta use em before they explode. Huh, who knew?
Almost every time I’m out, I get that look. You know the look I’m referring to: that extra linger-look away-then look again-smile look. It’s THAT look men love to get. It brings back that untainted school boy in all of us. That “yeah, I’m the sh*t” feeling.
It’s the wild eyed, “I haven’t had any sleep because I can hear my fallopian tubes cracking” that scares the bejesus out of men.
I had a T-Pain experience at Chili’s the other day. Hanging with the guys, killing the 2 for 1 all night drinks specials when the bartender says “a lady is buying you a drink”. Cool, I turn down nothing but my collar…
It happened in slow motion (at least for me it was). I saw the approach, I saw the smile, I saw the switch in her hips that screamed “I’M FERTILE”. Then I saw the look of disgust when she caught the light’s reflection from my platinum diamond wedding band. It was like someone had messed up her $85 dollar perm. She wasn’t even cordial when I offered to return the favor. Maybe it was the walk of shame back to her table or the giggling schoolboys that my friends turned into.
Most of all, I’m sure it was the disappointment. I felt bad for her in a sense. She looked weathered/tired in the dating game. You know how desert travelers see mirages and get that burst of excitement and energy only to find out it’s nothing there? Yeah, like that.
What can you do? As long as we have the genetically encoded primal need to procreate there will always be trials in finding a mate. That goes for both men and women, but its just funnier to me when women have to do “the walk of shame”. Divine retribution? maybe.
