Tuesday, December 2, 2014

The Best Day Of My Life Plan – That does not cost $16

Today is the best day of my life. I am really enjoying writing that everyday, it is an instant pick me up. Having said that I normally write it right at the end of the day and today I am instead writing it pretty much in the middle of my waking hours, and that’s a whole new ball game for me. Wait, the day can already be the best day of my life before it’s even half way over? Why the hell not? I could even take that energy and positivity into the second half my day and making it an even BETTER day, or even go to bed at a reasonably time for once and make it so this ends up actually being three quarters of the way through my day. The choice is mine!!! Wooo ha ha.

The world is my oyster even, which must be one of the stupidest sayings ever coined, and as I have proven of the past couple of days, I am a marvelous coiner, so I will improve, if not obliterate, that saying right now, with a masterfully crafted better saying – here goes – the world is my (insert any words here). Boom. Plus literally any word or words work better than fucking oyster.

The world is my gored out eyeball.

Yes, makes sense, because you have clearly been in the company of some form of gore capable man or beast, and even though you lost an eye, you survived, although that saying suggests that you are in fact the eye itself in this scenario, which means you are the valiant soldier who laid his life on the sword, possibly literally, to save the rest of the battalion. Well the dude you used to be part of may have also lost an arm, we don’t have the full information here – but I’d rather be a lost eye than a lost arm – a lost eye is a way creepier thing to be rolling around in the after life. Plus you can see! Sure a wandering arm can grab shit, but what would you ever want to grab in a world where you have no mouth for food, or genitalia to manipulate? Ok, maybe the odd ball for some form of sporting entertainment, but screw that.

Then again as an eye you would have to put up with constant mocking from the other random body parts, in what I assume is a separate section, or region, in the an afterlife which I am sure would be prejudice against body parts that died before the rest of its hosts bodies, I mean you can’t be an arm that died at age twenty and then re-hook up with the rest of the body that aged until it was well and truly wrinkled and liver spotted. I mean if that was going to happen then our old baby teeth would be waiting for us, and dare I say it, all the hair, and finger nails, and toe nails, and weird other nails that grow on our abdomens to show us where our dead fraternal twins used to be attached to us. No one wants to re-connect with that stuff in the next life, except baldies, but they aren’t real men, so screw em! (He he – my bald friends will be pissed).

The point is that I am having a great day. I actually did something that I am proud of today. I got severely shortchanged with my change when buying my lunch today. And by the way, all the people who have adopted the phrase ‘shortchanged’ when not talking about literal change, being change in monetary forms, rather than say a Chinese person getting plastic surgery to look more Mongolian. Actually that just reminded me, in Western pharmacies and drug stores there are huge sections dedicated to bronzers, artificial tans, and other weird skin darkening concoctions, but then when I was travelling Asia I found that in pharmacies these didn’t exist, but in their place was skin whitening creams and potions. I think there is a lesson in universal truth here – humans really are all the same on the inside – fucking idiots. Wait, ok, my story. So my food was supposed to cost $14, and I paid with $20 and only got $3 change. None of which are $16 so the title of this blog makes sense! Yay.

Now, I didn’t notice this shortchanging until I had walked a fair way away from the food court where I purchased my lunch, and upon finally noticing I had a version of the following mini-anxiety attack on my brain.

‘Oh fuck I got shortchanged, what do I do? I can’t go back can I? I don’t want to deal with that, I don’t want to have that argument, I don’t want to make the employee who did it look or feel bad, what if it got them fired, what if it gets them in trouble, I would feel awful if that happened, four bucks isn’t worth that at all is it? Oh and then I have walked so far away, I can’t just hold up the three dollars and say you gave me too little, they will say ‘no you just put the other four dollars in your pocket’, and suddenly I am being accused of attempting to rip off THEM. I hate being accused of being a criminal. Whenever I buy a newspaper I always fan it out and make it clear that I haven’t shoved a magazine or chocolate or something in-between the pages, just because I knew a few kids who did that twenty-five odd years ago, so know it’s something that the people selling magazines and newspapers probably have to be on the look out for, and I don’t want to ever have them even ask to check my paper, because if they do I will assume that they are deciding I look like someone who would steal, and the mere thought of having someone think that about me causes me all sorts of anxiety. So I do not want these Thai ladies to accuse me of stealing four dollars, even if the truth is that they stole four dollars from me.

Plus the lady standing right there is the one who I assume always makes fun of me whenever I am there, in Thai, even though I can’t speak Thai and for all I know she is saying ‘wow, this guy again, I still say I’d give up an arm and a leg for an hour with him naked’ which would be fucking awesome to find out someone had thought about me before, and an arm and a leg? You’re condemning your limbs to not being the coolest body parts in body part heaven, wait I just realized I never finished my thought above on why an eye would be mocked in said heaven ‘you’re an eye, how did you not see the bull horn coming to gore you, seeing stuff is literally your only job’ – and to finish the thought this paragraph intended to make, that lady, I don’t like her, she is always talking about me in Thai, and then laughing, and although I don’t want to write too much about her because this blog is already about twice as long as I intended, and because I have written about her extensively in a novel I wrote ages ago, and may actually attempt to publish at some point, called ‘A walk on the crows nest’ – please contact me publishers – she is the last person I want now noticing me as some little whiney little idiot who needs to get his lost four dollars back, ‘can’t handle losing four dollars, what a tight ass little loser you are, and I would never think about being naked with you, let alone giving up and arm and a leg’ and I don’t know why I am following on that nudity thread, because I don’t want to be naked with her at all, just it would be nice for someone to think those things about be sometime’.

‘Oh but what if they know that they shortchanged me and then think they have something over me, that they are better than me, I eat there regularly, I don’t want to continue to be shortchanged. I don’t want them to think that money means nothing to be, and I am just a spoiled little shit who doesn’t have to worry about such things, and ‘oh look, this guy can lose a third of an hours wage for us and doesn’t even notice, he thinks he’s better than us, lets spit and put snot in his food, or worse some oyster sauce, eeewww oysters.’

Now normally in situations like this I think some form of the above, and then leave and let that little snowball, snowball into a bigger snowball – like a fucking giant one, and hate myself. Not today my friends, I went back, they apologized a lot. I want to say I dropped the four dollars in some sort of charity bin, but I didn’t actually do that, and even though I do sometimes do things like that, I can’t believe I contemplated lying about it here, I’m going do it later, I swear. And the Thai lady who always makes fun of me right in fun of me in Thai didn’t make fun of me for one second during the whole exchange. That’s a win in my books. And I survived the entire ordeal without losing even a single body part to body part heaven. Yay.

The Best Day Of My Life Scheme – Is today’s title

 I feel like singing that title right now for some reason. I have no idea why, I feel like I very rarely feel like singing things these days, and nothing particularly musical is in my mind as I type this. Perhaps I merely have a song in my heart. I was about to write ‘I don’t I even think have a song in my heart’ but then I caught myself and upgraded it from ‘don’t think I’ to ‘perhaps I’, and it felt good to make that change. I think self-upgration is underrated frankly, so much so that it isn’t even a real world. Although I can’t coin it now, because I did a lot of that yesterday and I don’t want to cover the same things two days in a row.

I feel like I have now just overthought and judged myself off the upgrade, without even focusing on the thing I was upgrading. It’s just about having a song in my heart, stick to that Dave.

Then again why is it always the heart that get’s to have a song in it? Sure the step gets to have a spring in it from time to time. And most of the body gets to play with some pins and/or needles from time to time, which is a pretty fucking vicious sounding thing, especially for me, who quite often spends much of my dreamland picking out a seemingly endless supply of needles, staples, fish hooks and other forms of thin sharp metal from deep into my skin. The point is doesn’t the heart have enough in it already with all those pig valves, and pacemakers, oh and I think love swings past there from time to time? Isn’t it time we gave another body part a song for a change. 

You know what, I am going to do something about this. I am officially promising myself for the rest of the evening, on this day, which is of course the best day of my life, I am going to let my pancreas have a little bit of a song in it. I won’t let it out in any major verbal ways, not wanting my roommates to have to be awoken to the sound of my pancreas singing, which I assume would only be as equally as good as my mouth, which is only excellent to advanced excellent, when calculated on a scale made up of my current singing skills mixed in with the singing skills of my previous selves, many of whom were quite atrocious, meaning the current, awful when compared to most humans singing voice I have now, can seem quite amazing when instead compared to past me.

So yeah, today was a great day, blah, blah, blah – I’m off for a pancreas song, oooh, I hope it ends up being a song from the heart, fuck, I mean a really personal song which really breaks down what it’s like, the trials and tribulations, the needs, desires and obstacles and the real honest truth about the full on pancreatic experience, cause then maybe I’ll finally figure out what the hell the pancreas actually is!