Step aside heartfelt soul food, the sass is back, and it just got itself a make over.
I'm not the coolest cat on the block. Hell, I'm not even a cat, but I can freak out with the best of then. And who is them? Oh, I think you know and in the interest of remaining vague and unclear I'll let that simmer for a while before turning up the gas. Grow some skin. Thicken that up. Grab some humility. Take off your sunglasses at night - no, you don't need to watch me weave - and for love of balls, get your ass a suitable sense of humor. Does that mean laugh? No. It means the world is not on a fatal collision with an asteroid in the coming year and if you let the Aztecs freak you out because they understood the concept of zero then, my friend, we have a doctor just for you. This is the internet, boys and girls, that usual shelf of body language and giggling happy sauce avails you no more. You are what you say and that, for most of us, is a barreling mistake of short, sweet successive failures one after another. "But Greg!" You may exclaim. "How are we to get along and live with each other in peace and harmony?" The voice has a point. Truth? We won't. Hate happens. Annoyance happens. Some people just suck. I, personally, blow. We do it by cutting slack and ignoring those that make use want to beat our heads against the wall. We do it by raging aside in private conversations.
And lately that just doesn't feel like enough. Call me a liar (you wouldn't be the first), but I'm patient. Oh. I am. Sure, I prod and poke along with the rest of the universe, but this boiling point of irritated gospel spew is sitting just below the surface, stalking and waiting for that one, snarky bit of sarcasm designed to interject a smidgen of wit in that chaotic mass of post humanistic interactions. Get. A. Clue. Some of us are having trouble keeping a handle on our tempers. Some of us need need our little scrapbooks to keep ourselves from raining all over the parade, otherwise we may just got postal and quit our routes. Stress is only worth what you get out of it and just that much consideration would go a long way to preventing some of us from spiraling out of control.
Drama sucks. I hate drama. Drama can play with itself in the corner. I don't want drama. I want to go and chat and giggle and enjoy and make silly and be srs and blah, blah, blah, etcetera. There is no pertinent message here. This is a call to shut up. To buck up. To get your ass your own cake and then eat that bastard, because cake is delicious and no matter what
they say,
they are wrong and need to get off my soap box. It's mine, I tell you. Mine.
"It's 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it's dark... and we're wearing sunglasses."