Hello everybody, and even everybody’s eyes, which I am told is the body part most people use to read this blog most of the times they read it, oh sure some people will tell you that the eyes are nothing without the brain to decipher all that light and color and that therefore the brain is the real hero, not the eyes. But here is what I have to say to that – my brain is the very same head based organ of mine most likely to conjure up images of things that remind me of the grass that I used to eat my lunch on at school on days where it was sunny enough to be outside, and also I had already read the newspapers in the library so I didn’t have that to do instead, and I felt like risking the mocking cries of the mocking birds which turned out not to be mocking birds mocking kookaburras, but rather just kookaburras, which when laugh are often warning their fellow birds that rain might be coming, making me feel irritated at myself for already reading all the papers, because now I won’t have anything to do if it rains, so fuck you mocking birds, and therefore fuck you my brain, I am not giving you this win – the eyes are the fucking heroes this time, ok? And if you don’t like it I’ll scratch the itchy part of my ear canal with a straightened out paper clip and accidentally scratch to deep again, ok? Motherfucker! You’re ass is mine. Oh and also hello to everybody’s bodies. Ha ha, that’s a fun play on words. I could have had fun riffing on that, had I not been sidetracked talking about the brain, my brain of course being the very thing that chose the sidetrack, fuck you brain, I am not kidding, I have a paperclip!
Also – today was the best day of my life initiative! And I will tell you why – because all day today I had two Band-Aids on my right hand’s middle finger, one bright blue, and one hot pink and both with pictures of kittens on them! And this fact allowed me to finally admit to myself that I am a real man.
Now I am not talking about being a real man in the sense that I reject traditional masculinity and therefore claim some false sense of grasp of some mythical true masculinity. That’s not what happened today, or ever in my life, at all. I chose these particular Band-Aids because blue and pink is a really pretty color combination, and kittens are the sweetest most adorable things in the world, and I don’t love these things ironically in the slightest, I love them because they make me go all cutey and giddy, and make me talk in fun little voices, and hug pillows and small stuffed animals, and frankly I don’t give a crap that these loves of mine make me less manly in the traditional sense, and therefore I deserve all the love and admiration that I pretend I get in my brain, for genuinely having that warm bulbous part of my heart engorged to the extent of being almost not human, super human you might say, and I am fine with you saying things like that about me, sure it makes me blush, and get shy and show obvious signs of modesty – but don’t let my humility and unpretentiousness hold you back – praise me, really it’s ok, I deserve it, so fuck me for not being willing to show pride, that’s my problem.
No, that is not where today’s manliness comes into the equation – today I am talking in the traditional sense – where a man does a man’s day of work and cops a man’s work style man injuries (or women) because these injuries happen at their man jobs. Yep, I did throw in those words (or women) specifically to try and seem like this paragraph has not even a hint of sexism, and I did that brilliantly. And yep, the reason I had to wear Band-Aids all day was from a work related injury. Yep, I was digging around in my backpack, looking for a writing related object, and stabbed myself in the finger with the end of a mechanical pacer pencil, and a good 1/6th or 1/8th of an inch of pencil led got stuck under the skin.
Yep, they told me that attempting to make a life doing fruity arty stuff was not manly, which makes no sense, because I don’t even like fruit, but just like those hard ass men working on construction sites, and as lumberjacks, and deep within wood mining mines, and the guys who work in the woods carving tables and bookcases and sailing boats out of trees – I too have had a day pretty much ruined by the incomprehensible discomfort of a work related splinter. And now, like my fellow splinter suffering hard working men I will complain a little, pussy out of some jobs (or women) (wow that’s powerful using that device, you can make pretty much anything seem not sexist – wait I want to try it again to test this out – most men suffering with menstrual cramps, or swollen boobie related discomfort are regularly seen at the dog track (or women) and that’s ok. Wow, it’s flawless) and avoid all things that might possibly require the use of my right hand and its fingers, like physical labor, or holding my pee pee while I pee so the pee pee can be guided towards the pee pee hole without excessive missing, or even leaving the house, because the front door is made of wood, and who could risk a double splinter, not me – so I will wait until this splinter is gone. I am a man, oh yeah I am – a traditional man.
Oh and before you ask, yes, I have tried getting it out with tweezers, but it hurts too much and I give in to the pain before I get even close to getting it out, so yep it’s going to be at least one more day with this splinter for me – and my days of manliness shall therefore continue.
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