I haven't released an article on back to back days for awhile. We all see authors do it, and steadily, too! Some release three or four or more per day, more power to'em, takes me that long just to trim revise edit these things. But I wanted to release an article on back to back days so here I am.
6 days late
Dammit! Well, so much for that. They say it's the thought that counts anyway—my intentions were on point! No idea how to proceed from here though. Suggestions, anyone? (I need a suggestion box) A six pack of sentences into the second paragraph and I'm still waiting for material—it'll find me. A live audience would be convenient about now, I'd segue right here by pointing out dudes retro denim shirt in the front row. Rolled up sleeves and two sizes too small, missing a button on the shoulder—douche. Speaking of...
Why doesn't douche have an ā sound at the end of it like touché? They're only one letter off—conspiracy! Anywho..
Who wears shirts with buttons on the shoulders anyway? Or ask the couple sitting behind button man with their legs cris-crossed together under the table who can't keep their hands off each other a stupid question like 'did you come here together?' Got it!
That didn't take long
Thanks for tuning in to a live demonstration of How These Things Start. Bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla bla about whatever's turning gears in my head and watch my fingers desperately try to keep pace until a topic I can run with presents itself.
Stupid Questions
Lots of those these days. The advent of these devices and continued evolution of technology, those questions reach a vast audience in lightning speed. Questions like who's really running the show and where's Tom Hanks posted up? Illuminati questions, government corruption, history of taxes, Hollywood underworld questions, stuff like that.
By expending an exhausting amount of energy on issues of mass proportions likely beyond our control, we tend to overlook smaller issues with scaled consequences closer to home. I'm not against exposing Qanon or however you spLeL it (pronounce it, etc). Expose that shit! I'm just saying don't lose sight of the little things, they're closer than you think. Right above the microwave in the kitchen.
Like how'd they get all those coffee filters to line up like that in the package? Perfect alignment and not one suffered structural damage. Those things come 200 a pack too! All nice and flat, wrinkle free, I can't even remove one without ruining one in the process while spending an unexpected amount of time removing the other two straggler filters who refuse to remain in the package with the other 197.
Or why do I have to eat 12 pizzas at $14/piece before I can get one pizza at 50% off? $168 out of pocket expenses before the option (it's not even guaranteed!) of a discounted pizza—'socialism!'
Why aren't forks with three pokers called threeks? I've seen forks with five pokers, they're not called fiveks.
Election results, some people swear it's rigged. White House mobs, they swear that's rigged too. Maybe it is. I'm not saying put these issues on the shelf, they need dissected. Just don't let the big shit distract you from the smaller, equally important issues at hand like why do dudes have shirtless selfies as their profile picture?
Postured in a flex position, really?! Your buddies, wife, kids, a co-worker, the dog, your neighbor—no way. Out of everyone you know, not one person suggested put on a shirt?!
You need new friends
Running around like masked, headless chickens screaming something about Nancy what's her name, a woman we've never met, loud enough for the world to hear. Meanwhile, failing to realize first and last name followed immediately by birth year is a terrible email address. Beating up their keyboard about NSA/CIA privacy laws, tracked web searches, and how our lives are being monitored 24/7 based on a tip they received directly to their email: sally_walters1978@ yourfavoritedomain .com
Pandemics, sore losers, money printing, these things distract us from issues closer to home. Like what's in a deodorant stick? I've been lathering my pits with it (noticeable otherwise) I don't know how many years now and I don't know wtf's in it.
Same with lotion. Ladies get down with lotion, too! I've been lathering my upper body in it about as long as I've been rolling my pits—nothing compared to the ladies. They get intimate with lotion—methodical. Not a spec of flesh remains in original factory settings after ladies are done with it. Everything from cuticles on their toes to butt cheeks, knee caps, head to toe—no flesh remains unlathered. Behind their ears, they even have special cream for their forehead and cheeks, not to be mistaken with the under-eye one. All that lathering and nobody asked wtf's in it.
They say fellas maintain their appearance better than women as we age. Women complain about natural evolution from the elements over the years like wrinkles and blemishes while agitated complaining how "see everything we have to do to stay pretty? You guys got it so0Ooo easy!" Hollywood and Instawhatever has all women, teens to seniors, on the anti-aging, mud mask applying, Botox riding, all-natural look despising train.
I don't put mud on my face, either, every time she asks me to which is every time she applies mud to her own face—same conclusion: Men age better than women. I'm about to let you in on a little secret.
Cuz we don't put all that shit on our face
My wife's a 10. She's one of those 10's who doesn't have to do anything to stop traffic, just stand outside—it stops. Avid runner, long blonde hair, she stopped me in my tracks too. She also graduated Summa Cum Laude from a major university in San Francisco, California. I linked it for you cuz I didn't know what it was, either, before I met her.
It means she earned a four year degree with an annual grade point average (GPA) of 3.9865 out of a possible 4.0—beauty and brains. She gets embarrassed when I brag about her like this. She's a gangster test taker. In California, she not only completed her real estate exam (one of the most challenging in the country) first in a class of 44 pupils, she aced that exam on her first attempt, something most require two and three tries. Google it—I think the percentage rate of first round failures is in the 80's.
So, yeah! Stops traffic, sells houses without missing a detail in the loan docs, all while accurately and politely correcting your punctuation and grammar. She's a test taker—doesn't forget anything. You already know she's a 5-star chef. Beauty, brains, she's nice to me, thanks to her I trust women again, don't wanna leave that one out. I'm The Luckiest Guy I Know. She's funny too. I can't control my laughter sometimes which history's proven I should really consider tuning that up.
Like one night a few years back, we're laying in bed watching whatever we were watching as we fell asleep. It might've been a car chase scene, something to do with cars, I could tell she's confused by the hesitation in her sexy voice that stops me in my tracks every time. My eyes were probably closed but as soon as I catch a whisper of that 3.9865 GPA voice, I'm wide awake—A - ten - shun!!
Babe?
'Yeesssss?'
What's it called when a car fires back?
We call those Pura moments. Well, sorta, we insert her first name instead of Pura but I'm super protective, I've yet to share her name online. I won't even go to the mailbox without locking the door behind me if she's home—habit. Pura translates to Pure anyway—close enough.
We're on the beach one day in Long Beach with a few couples who were neighbors of ours. We hadn't hung out before, all six of us just happened to leave the complex at the same time that day. So we're hangin out, everyone opens their blankets and towels, we're passin one around and getting to know each other, enjoying the sun, whatever else—beach day. Two other couples, we're all in our 30's and, judging from what I've gathered thus far, everyone's seemingly intelligent.
I was mistaken
One of the girls points to Pura's birthmark—perfect little heart-shaped birthmark above her knee. Very excitedly, the neighbor girl, "OMG! How cute is that birthmark?!" Pura's shy—hates it when attention's drawn to her, especially in public, so she quickly responds and continues applying sun block, "thanks!" Beautiful smile reflecting in her sunglasses, "only one I got" she says. My wife's the baddest. All five of us simultaneously laughed out loud which is extremely convenient, otherwise I would've been the only one laughing out loud when the cute little neighbor girl followed with, "have you had it your whole life?"
Is this too long?
Sometimes I think they're too long. I've been spending a lot of time in the new section lately, mine are lengthy compared to most. Oh well, it's about to get a little longer, I got a few more stupid questions to cover—asked these ones myself. Cuz if you can't laugh about yourself and only find humor at the expense of others, you're an asshole.
Why I'll never ask a girl if she's a fighter ever again, ever. I thought she was a fighter. She was in great physical shape, I'm in there five days a week so I know what's required to be as fit as she was—she trains regularly.
I just landed in Florida, my buddy's wife picked me up at the airport. First things first, head shop, I need a piece. I walked in, noticed the buff girl working the counter with really toned arms, she's wearing khaki overalls and a yellow tank top, showing off her guns. She had two fresh black eyes, too, big ones! Looked like she just finished sparring with someone.
She's helpful, really nice to me and attentive, guided me around the store making sure I found everything I needed. I'm at the register now, she rings me up and tells me the total. I paid for my items and asked 'are you a fighter?'
No.
That's it! "No." No more story, she didn't say anything else and I didn't ask anything else. She didn't elaborate, I was silenced. I shrunk below the counter and exited the shop like a scolded puppy.
One more. Pura sent me to the store for plant stock—a broth for cooking. I went to the broth section and saw all the boxes of stock; vegetable, beef, chicken, they're all there but no plant. So I'm looking and looking which doesn't really mean anything cuz if you send me to find it, you should probably know now, 'we don't have any'. An employee realized I can't find what I'm looking for.
Can I help you find something?
'I need plant stock but it looks like you're all out.'
Her eyebrows twitched to that downward concerned position as though I just spoke a foreign language. She grabbed a box of vegetable stock off the shelf immediately in front of my face, "it's right here, sir." Thanks to the kind hearted nature and assistance of that sales associate at that moment, I realized vegetable is plant.