An Award-Winning Disclaimer

A charming little Magpie whispered this disclaimer into my ear, and I'm happy to regurgitate it into your sweet little mouth:

"Disclaimer: This blog is not responsible for those of you who start to laugh and piss your pants a little. Although this blogger understands the role he has played (in that, if you had not been laughing you may not have pissed yourself), he assumes no liability for damages caused and will not pay your dry cleaning bill.

These views represent the thoughts and opinions of a blogger clearly superior to yourself in every way. If you're in any way offended by any of the content on this blog, it is clearly not the blog for you. Kindly exit the page by clicking on the small 'x' you see at the top right of the screen, and go fuck yourself."

Tuesday, March 31, 2009

Resolution Road

Everyone's looking to better themselves, aren't they?

Well, of course, some people probably can't, but most of us can find dimension of our personality to tweak, to enhance, to augment.

I've been thinking a lot lately about my own disposition, because definitely one thing that self-centered people tend to do when they're bored or unfocused. They do other things too, of course.

It's difficult and unpleasant to ponder self-improvement with any degree of seriousness, because, if you're doing it correctly, you will encounter unpleasant truths about yourself that you'd probably rather not know like. You may think you look one way to yourself, but you look completely different to others. You may realize that you're really disliked by others, or that you're engaged in some sort of cult activity.

I've decided to compile a list of things I need to start doing in order to improve who I am. This didn't require expensive, or even cheap, analysis, nor did it require that it be New Year's Day. It just required a little thought, so here we go.


Changing pants more frequently.

People who see me on a regular basis (my employer, family, friends, wife, postman, etc) probably think that I own only two pair of pants and/or that I am a filthy human being. They're wrong about the former, right about the latter. I must own at least twenty pair of trousers and yet I insist on wearing the same pair for at least three days straight at a time, usually more.
"You've got to stagger," my father said to me one day. Once he's noticed, then it's definitely time to act.

Stop being so judgemental.

As you know, I have a real problem with this one.

when people talk to me.

Old friends of mine will tell you emphatically that I am a good listener. New friends of mine-- oh, wait-- I don't have new friends. Maybe that's because I don't listen to new people when they talk to me. If they do talk to me. I couldn't really tell you. I feel like I have lost all capacity to focus on people's inane bullshit (oops-- judging. Sorry.) and I instantly forget anything people tell me, including their name and any other critical information that would have otherwise assisted me in either becoming their friend or learning something. I've also begun a rather unsettling habit of looking through people instead of at them. I wonder if people can tell.

Is it just me, or is dusting something that you only see people do in movies and TV shows, but nobody ever does in real life? Or is that just what I tell myself to justify the fact that I don't dust?

My mouth has always gotten me into trouble. When I was in elementary school, mouthing off to a bully on the schoolbus earned me a hockey stick to the chest, a punch in the chest and another one in the stomach, all on different occasions and from different miscreants. In middle and high school, there was more trouble. People say that they want to know what you're thinking, but they don't. Take it from one who, more often than not, says what he's thinking.

God, he smells.

You'd think that someone who is as hypochondriacal and obsessed with death and his health would take better care of his body, but I don't. I eat meat a lot, whenever I can. We do not often have it at the house, but I consume more than my fair share of flesh when we go out. Meat has even insinuated its way into the house on occasion, in the form of turkey burgers and lunchmeat. Not exactly a 20 ounce Porterhouse, but it's still going to kill me.

By the way, you're all supposed to leave comments begging me to not blog less. But, I feel like it's taking away from my focus at work and quality interactions at home. Plus, it's been five months and I still only know 5 banjo chords. I blame you.

Creating a mass movement to stop Oprah.

Seriously, she sucks. Write to your congressman or something.

1 comment:

  1. i have a listening problem too :( and i am judgmental.


Got something to say? Rock on with your badass apron!