Mission Kinda Accomplished

I'm getting old! My slowing metabolism and muscle recovery is the physical evidence, while on a behavioral level I am becoming increasingly uninterested in everything.  My attention span is approaching that of a fussy infant and I've been unintentionally experimenting with cynicism in small doses.  Is this it for me? Am I at the peak of aging, right before the steep fall into a pre middle age slump?

It won't be long until this time now will exist only in memory, with age I will likely lose important story details along with scrotal perkiness, so in preparation for that I've been cataloging notable thoughts via this blog.  I never wanted a specific recollection of events, I've instead focused on how important certain People and experiences were in my personal growth.  My intentions in writing and life have always been of entertainment based seriousness; I've always thought I had something important to say, I'm just not comfortable doing it, so I format the serious moments in my life and literature like the last 5 minutes of a "Full House" episode: I make my audience cringe through my serious thoughts before smoothing over the moment with a cute joke.  Doing so I've hoped my writing and life could be looked upon as an outsider and appreciated as entertainment and maybe, just maybe a little something to think about.

For me Blogging has always been about filling a gap, the gap of information needed to understand the important participants in our lives.  At times I've been unnecessarily brief with the people in my life, and at times I've been left wanting more from someone without the means to learn more.  By Blogging hopefully I've created the opportunity for anyone to learn a little something about me.  

A cute joke.     

As a dude with limited capabilities I take great pride in the 23 posts I've written before this.  My blog was also never intended for mass appeal so remaining motivated to write my unread words is an accomplishment in itself.  In celebration I will be taking a new exciting direction in my Random Thoughts, my 25th post will betray my underground roots for the highly popular Guest post.  I have the perfect candidate, all I need now is a couple Puppy hostages to encourage participation.

 

A subpar way to dine

Hidden between a Rite Aid and Medical Marijuana dispensary is San Diego's premier downtown eatery.  An ill timed blink may be responsible for even the most trained of eyes missing this 7th street gem.  You'll know your in the right place once you've entered and tripped the overhanging bell alarm and took in the ambiance of expired Olives and silent farts.  If you're an expert sign reader; you'll be directed to the end of an excessive sneeze guard where the eager "Artist" will take your order in between text messages and inappropriate itches.

Upon deciphering the complex code of  Bread, Meat, Cheese that requires repeating no less than four times, you'll be shuffled down an assembly line of common produce that is surprisingly foreign to even the most frequent of clientele.  During this critical time of service a guest is required to retain laser accurate eye contact with their Sandwich at the risk of losing your selection to the Mayo-less Chicken Breast ahead of you.  The option to partake in the enjoyment of a strangers back or a nearby phone conversation are available and free of charge, but not encouraged.

After selecting an assortment of Vegetables fitting your Protein choice, another associate will masterfully stuff them inside your Bread with the delicate care usually given to cheap luggage.  Once your foot long creation is completed a quality assurance executive will loosely wrap your sandwich to properly ensure your ingredients form a fun little salad at the bottom of your bag once arriving at your eating destination.

On site dining is available without a reservation, but phoning ahead is recommended to secure a sticky Soda stained Yellow Booth featuring Cookie crumbs atop and chewing gum treasures below.  Overall this fine establishment should solely be considered in the event of a massive Chuckwagon shortage at your local gassery or an unprecedented Hot Pocket recall.

The Incredible Relatable Egg

It's becoming harder to remain an outsider. Being weird or independently off beat isn't enough to distance yourself from the people around you anymore. It's incredible how we can all relate in so many ways, you'd be hard pressed finding someone who doesn't know a little something about our off putting idiosyncrasies, in fact if your truly seeking a mysterious lifestyle you should probably start date raping Beach Balls right now before someone else does, because it won't be long before you come across a fellow beach toy molester, or someone who can relate to how sexy the stripes look on those inflatable sex orbs.

Less the unconsenting abuse of a bouncy crowd surfer, it's just too hard being completely unique these days, we're all just too similar for anyone to feel not included. There was a time when I took pride in my weirdly ways, I wore it around like an invisible Olympic Medal. Doing so I wasted so much time assuming my opinions and experiences couldn't possibly be understood by anyone else and I failed to notice the people nodding knowingly right next to me; they're feeling me, they're pickin up what I'm laying down, they're felling the funk I'm bringin.

I'd say my years of hocking Huevos with incredibly relatable folks deserves the credit for this realization. I couldn't possibly feel weird when the people around me share in the weird, we can't all be weird right? if we all were, then wouldn't it be weird not to be weird?

Without taking anything away from my Cafe Cohorts I'd like to bid farewell to a bunch of workplace Weirdos I'm gonna miss this Summer. Without the select few of you I wouldn't have felt so comfortable being so weird around all you fucking weirdos.

It had to of been 3 shifts tops before I was cornered by a perky little Hobbit, this cute little ankle biter in ghetto fabulous hoodies was my first work pal and I don't want to leave her behind, can I hide you in my shirt pocket and feed you cracker pieces?

What seemed to be a cranky old lady actually became a fellow sharp witted shit slinger, I don't remember ever getting anything past you without a snappy comeback, your like a sassy Auntie on a Comedy sitcom, and I loved every minute of it. Oh and by the way; you should tell more stories about your $15,000 Horse stepping in a puddle while I add Ketchup to my ramen as a costly Culinary delight.

I'm pretty sure that in an alternate universe I am a female cosmetology student that waits tables for meager tips, sometimes it freaks me out how similar our sense of humor is, I can remember a handful of times that you stole a joke right from my head and it creeped me out every time, I'm gonna miss your overly obscure bands and terrible accents. Oh and you still owe me some audio, chop chop Aretha Franklin!!

C-Town you really need to put some damn socks on, nobody wants to see that giant midget Toe of yours! and where the hell are you getting all those bruises from? are you kickboxing after work or being domestically abused by Cats? I never liked Huey Lewis and The News, that was a trap and you fell for it, you are such a huge nerd, I'm telling everyone!!

I'm already over all of you.......whatever, goodbye

Procrastination Re-Education

Why has Laziness become a such a negative adjective? why do we tarnish such a wonderful thing to describe the few exceptions within a large group? This doesn't occur anywhere else; all Muslims aren't Terrorists, all Stoners aren't drug addicts, and all chubby couch enthusiasts aren't Obese. Why have we over classified the casual majority of my peers who partake in the laziness with recreational amounts? By doing so we are shaming each other and giving power the unoriginal hecklers that ruined faggot for everyone. I miss faggot, it was such a shocking and effective universal way to encapsulate one's undesirable behavior, I won't go any further on the faggot topic, Louis C.K's stand up material echo's my sentiment on the matter, so just go watch one of his sets. I will however try to clarify some of the mistakes we have made when using the L word to describe someone, it's a big task but I aim to correct the misconception of lazy while creating a positive association with the activity, wish me luck.

I feel lazy people are deserving of the same praise we give our highly functioning Stoners. When you meet a real life Stoner do we immediately judge them? No we don't! we just assume they use Marijuana to cope with a lackluster schedule or the boring vacation tales that frequently spill out of our mouths. In fact when encountering the Smokaduss-reefakai species we often reserve our judgement until we spot a combination of clues, such as:

• A fully functioning dust free Super Nintendo game Console
• More than one Journey Album
• any poster within the fantasy genre
• An employee badge from a Video dispensary

And even then, we still wait to verify their age and address, if over 30 and inhabiting a parents basement = BAD, LOSER, HALF WIT, UNDERACHIEVER. If under 30 and still at home = GOOD, NORMAL, AN UPSTART, GOAL SEEKER. When was the last time any of my lazy people received such concession? If we are labeled lazy then we are just lazy, nobody considers circumstances with us.

Why can't I be a fully functioning Lazy person? I have goals and dreams, I just don't want to accomplish them so fast. Why can't my love of naps and deadline extensions be separated from the extremists bums who leach from society? We can make the divide when interpreting the Qur'an, why not with something much more simple?

So I propose this: Let's use different words when describing the different types of disinclined, call someone lacking motive; unmotivated, label the slight lack of work ethic; slacking, and please by all means call a habitually unemployed, non contributing person; a bum. Leave Laziness out of it, because I enjoy my lazy alter ego, and I wish to keep it a secret. Nothing brings me more joy in life than being called a "hard worker" while secretly pursuing my lazy interests, which used to be much easier before all you bums started blowing my spot up!

My Boss is Hot

I've evolved, quite a bit actually. One might even say I've Matured significantly, the proof is mainly in my enunciation of the word "matured", see you silly youth's pronounce it "ma-chur-ed" and I: being the distinguished gentleman and poser Englishman I am, pronounce it "Ma-toor-ed". My new found grasp on the Kings English has been most beneficial in my social evolution, I almost don't remember that fumbling half wit I once was. As an Aa-dult (not Adult) I am seldom lost for words, I mostly know exactly what I want to say without the use of popular Teenage idioms now.

HA! listen to that^ guy, he's got it all figured out huh? I bet this^ turd probably typed that entire paragraph with his pinkie finger pointed up and outwards like some sort of Regal Columnist for the Snickerton Gazette. What I meant was that my shit is mostly together enough to form a couple lucky sentences when speaking with someone. I don't stumble on my words or pee my pants anymore at the site of a pretty lady like I did as a young man, I am however; still a Machine fueled by the attention of beautiful Women, that hasn't changed, I've just become a little more subtle about it over the years.

I'd say a good 90% of my everyday actions are aimed towards gaining the favor of our pretty gender counterparts. I split the remaining 10% pursuing fried foods and naps, in case you were wondering. Even with a large allotment of time committed to being charming I often find myself doing the weirdest things to foil my efforts with "The Hot Babes", I once told a 3 minute story about Larry Bird upon being approached by an attractive young lady at the gym who asked "hey you bring your own ball huh? you must play allot of hoops" who does that?

That story is a prime example of how I can sometimes be totally confident in my social skills but uncomfortable enough in my surroundings to pick the absolute worst subject matter. I'm Pretty sure ZERO children have been conceived with an assist from random factoids freshly plucked from an interesting 60 Minutes story or Animal Planet special.

"Say Karen; how did you meet your Husband?" Oh, He was telling me the most interesting things about Giraffes and one thing lead to another...

The surroundings are Key for me, your probably getting the best Tim experience when I am comfortable and confident where I am, and that place has always been the workplace. I'm the King of balancing precisely atop the fence between Business Casual, and professionally personal. In Fact, I own that Fence! I purchased it at a discount; transported it, and constructed it around the small storage shed where I keep all my cute jokes. So ya, it's quite easy for me to be enjoyable at a 9-5 pace, not only enjoyable, but pretty cool too, almost Fonziesque. (side note: I once repaired a Microwave with a backwards kick and elbow thrust)

Ugh! what was I getting at here? I rambled a bit excessively on this one. So my Boss is pretty damn Hot, smoking hot if you will. In a nutshell I'm normally a pretty cool customer at work, but this Girl is really fucking my shit up! The overall package of GAWD DAMN she has going on is enough to bother any dude, the hypnotizing Ass and playful smile just seem like a bit too much, almost a sensory overload.

I wish her physical attributes were the most distracting, sadly they are not. Within the first week on the job I noticed she used several "Tim-isms" which are quirky things I thought were specific to me, For example: she sometimes makes Karate noises like "Hee-Ya" while reaching for things, sometimes she does actual karate moves which are equally amusing, She also starts allot of her conversations with "so...". Those small things grabbed my attention early on, and Her Encyclopedic knowledge of Classic Rock songs and spontaneous dancing are what have kept this guy captivated for quite some time now. So captivated and interested that I'm often thinking "Durr She's Hot" instead of silly retorts, and that's very rare because I love my retorts.

Being the highly evolved social creature I am there is something to be said about someone making me regress into a Brain damaged Cave man. It's weird that I am only now writing something about it, I've never waited so long to share epic happenings in my life. My full attention may be elsewhere now, but I wouldn't be honest with myself if I didn't credit the Boss Lady with being a fun distraction in a large part of my day.

Regarding my Regards

I should probably start working on a professional letterhead; nothing fancy, just a couple crisp words in a reputable font. "From the desk of Lord Timothy" or "The offices of Tim and associates" would probably suffice. I don't have a pressing need to send classy memo's around, but like a nice pair of Khaki's, it's probably best having it around just in case. Like if you ever plan to write your congressman, or publicly dispute a paternity test with a creepy Carny named Maury.

In the history of correspondence I'm certain nothing important has ever been sent on notebook paper or a poorly formatted 8x11 printer sheet. A letterhead is a necessity if you want your message taken seriously. If you plan on writing someone on a sloppy College Ruled sheet torn from a spiral notebook then you might as well sub out your ink for Raccoon pee, because anything you write will be perceived as the ramblings of a mad man anyway. With the exception of ransom letters and juicy preteen gossip.

The severity of a letter is always evident by the professional layout and quality of paper used: "FUCK!!! 9x11 45lb paper, I'm getting sued again". A Stationery on the other hand has almost the exact opposite effect on the recipient. If you open mail with a cute stationary enclosed; chances are you are being invited to the 5th Birthday celebration of "Sparkles" the Feline roommate of your lonely friend, and that's pretty awesome, unless you haven't found the "Purrrrrfect gift".

My Letterhead would likely be used for super important things as well. I bet a quick collection letter could help settle the outstanding $5 bills, drinks, and hand jobs I've been promised over the years. Or upon being offended by a strangers statement I could scurry to the closest PC and print out a quick memo wherein I cordially invite them to an exclusive ball sucking event hosted by yours truly.

I got work to do

The Modest Rapper

I haven't wrote much this year, probably for the same reason it takes me a half an hour to get into my e-mail inbox; I get distracted very easily. Almost every time I visit the Yahoo or AOL homepage an interesting news story beckons my mouse pointer, the Blogger dashboard is no exception. I need to break the habit of catching up on my reading before starting a new post. One of these days I will end up reading my random thought on a strangers blog before I can write it myself, it could happen too, I read a fellow Minnesotans blog and he could easily wake up one below zero morning and experience a shriveling effect that could lead to him swiping one of my precious dick jokes, I cannot let that happen.

For the last month I've kept myself entertained at work with the thought of a Modest Rapper. I would think up real gangsta things, and then think of how a fiscally conservative and non boastful rapper would instead describe such things, here are a few snippets:

"I keep my stacks in the bank so my Greens always rolling, not in a car we're talking A.P.R!!"

"I got my chain on my neck and my pinkie finger icy cuz I'm livin real nicely. When my Babies See a movie I feed em Cherry ICEE-from the gas station not the theater; Ya'll know their too pricey"

"There's always $45 of change in the cup holder of my Range-Rover-over 245,000 miles I'm pushing in that little bulldozer"

"When I'm out in the club all the ladies know the Hennessey is on Gregory, but that Pepsi mixer aint for free so you best leave a little tip for me"

"If your trying to kick it then I'm trying to host; I gots cribs on the left and right Coast. I got a Condo in Vegas if you wanna gamble and bet, just gimme a notice if we're going cuz you know I sublet"

"Everyday I'm pouring Champagne wishes and eating Caviar dreams, but I still put them leftovers in empty containers of Whipped Creams"

"Sometimes these hard streets call for drug references; but I don't have the time between workin and PTA conferences"

Word!