Stumbling upon The Best Day of my life – Is ‘visceral’ a thing?

Today was one of those days I didn’t have to seek, or dig, or scrounge for best day of my life activities to take place, they simply fortuitously we’re dumped into my metaphorical lap, or if you don’t want the metaphor, just look up a little from my lap, now come on, you can do it, I know it’s nice to look down there, but move them eyes a little higher, nope, keep going, no lingering, hey those are my nipples, they aren’t for you, they are for me and only me, keep going, ok good. Now that your looking into my eyes I can tell you that you can’t see where the good stuff was dumped, because it wasn’t a visual thing, it was hearing, um, what do you call it, oh yeah, audible.

Now I know what you’re thinking ‘nothing good is ever heard because you have to see it to believe it and that’s visual; and the proof is in the pudding and that’s tasteful, and neither of those things are best enjoyed with your ears, except pudding, but only with a very, very special someone’. Well I’m going to prove you wrong. Because I had an exceptional experience that was completely heard. In fact overheard. Yep, I got to eavesdrop onto a female conversation.

Now before you call me a snoop, I should point out that by ‘got to’ I mean ‘was forced to’, because this was on a train, and she was talking very loud, and the train was packed so I could not simply move and give her privacy, so what could I do BUT listen?

Anyway, it turns out that this was a very important phone call.  You see this woman was talking to one of her girlfriends, and it turns out that a mutual girlfriend of theirs was talking to another of her girlfriends, who was not a girlfriend of either of these girlfriends, and this mutual girlfriend was concerned that even though her and her girlfriend who was not a girlfriend of these girlfriends was a good girlfriend, but that their conversation had meandered along in a boring fashion. She was not sure whether or not the conversation was in fact boring or whether she had simply ceased to be stimulated by this girlfriend. So she called her girlfriend, the one on the phone, and reenacted the conversation for her, as word to word perfect as she could remember, to see if in fact the conversation was boring, or whether something else was causing her malaise. Her girlfriend, the one I could hear on the phone now, was not sure if the conversation between her girlfriend and a girlfriend of her girlfriend who was not her girlfriend was boring or not, so she was now calling her girlfriend and reenacting the reenactment of the original conversation in hope that the truth about whether or not the conversation that had taken place earlier, involving neither of the people currently talking, was in fact a boring conversation. It turns out that the very original conversation which had taken place, and may or may not have been boring, was a discussion on whether another mutual girlfriend of the two original conversers, but neither of the current people talking, should or should not have made the recent changes that she had made to her hair. Despite these current two girlfriends now talking seemingly having never met this girlfriend who had changed her hair, they were now breaking down the conversation that had been had about her hair, and debating certain elements of it, such as the tone and seriousness, at least as it had been reenacted to the girlfriend I could now hear talking, beat by beat, to figure out if a. the conversation had been boring and b. where the boredom stemmed from, either their mutual girlfriend, or the girlfriend neither of them knew. After a good twenty plus minutes of discussion they ultimately came to the conclusion that yes, the original conversation had been boring, but no, they could not pinpoint where the boredom originated so they could not give advice to their mutual girlfriend as to whether or not she need to be worried that her girlfriendship with her girlfriend that neither of these girlfriends knew, was a girlfriendship she need be concerned about. There was however no word on whether the haircut had looked cute.

Now I know what your thinking – ‘Hey Dave, yeah sure, awesome conversation to get, nay be forced, to overhear, but surely you have better ways things to get awesomeness from, so how did this make it the best day of your life?’

Well I’ll tell you good folk, because I learned lessons. Lessons such as:

-       I can still get so bored that I start to try and remember my high school economics, so that should it ever come up, and it never has, I will remember how to explain the economic multiplier effect to people, even though I really never want to.

-       Girls are stupid.

-       I can call girls stupid for the way they’ll reenact a reenactment of a boring conversation to each other, right after I have reenacted the reenactment of the reenactment.

-       Hypocrisy sucks.

-       So does eavesdropping.

-       Make sure you have enough battery in your phone to listen to music next time you idiot.

-       I don’t the moniker ‘girlfriend’ to be used when talking about a friend.

-       I don’t know, it’s just unnecessary alright?

-       Today was the best day of my life.

-       You HEARD it here first. See I did it, I proved you wrong about the hearing thing!

-       Yay.

The Best Day of My life incident – But here’s the twist

I came up with a sweet idea for a movie today. Ok, here it is, so there’s a murder. Ok, this is already exciting right? You know, not that murder is exciting, especially when it’s motivated by a super sad reason, such as:

-       Vengeance.

-       Payback.

-       Because someone said ‘hey’ to you, and you misheard them and thought they said ‘Haim’, which reminds of your favorite movie actor named Corey, and how he has sadly passed away, which reminds you of World War One, which was a place where other people also sadly passed away, which reminds you of Europe, where much of World War One took place, which reminds you of how last time you were in Europe you had a flight delayed because of fog, which was super frustrating, so you badly want retribution against them for saying hey to you. Or even..

-       Revenge.

Only it’s not real life, it’s a movie, so none of those things are sad anymore, and now instead they are badass.

Ok, but that’s only where the movie starts. It’s like the a catalyst now, in the movie, for other stuff to happen. Because the characters in the movie don’t know they are in a movie, they think it’s real life, even though there is dramatic music playing whenever they stare into space menacingly, which frankly would tip me off that I wasn’t in real life quite often, because I stare into space menacingly for at least six or seven hours a day.

(Wait – I just remembered in my dream last night I was hanging out with Larry David, and well, anyway it turns out that at some time in the future I will be going back in time and co-creating and co-writing Curb Your Enthusiasm, so you’re welcome fans).

So now, right, the cops show up on the scene of this murder, they might even find the murder weapon, but probably only if it’s something really sad, such as:

-       A three-gallon barrel of smelling salts.

-       A shiv made of dehydrated and sharpened sea salts.

-       A packet of chips that had not been flavored properly at the factory and then when eaten had caused the eater to say ‘needs salt’ and then because of his lack of need for a drink, as he had planned to need, his beverage has gone unconsumed, leading to a shop keeper not selling as many drinks as he’d planned that day, so he worked later than he planned that day, meaning his car was still in it’s place, and it’s window has been smashed and used as a stabbing thing, or even…

-       So much salt you could crush a man to death with it.

Only this is a movie, so it’s not sad, instead it’s badass. Plus the concession stand has lots of packets of salt for any viewers who may otherwise be bummed out when they find out what the weapon was.

So now the movie really kicks into gear. The cop’s come up with someone they call a ‘suspect’. But here is the twist, the person they think did it, the murder that is, well it turns out that he didn’t do it!

Now the movie starts to pump along. The cop’s come up with another person they think might have done it, the murder that is. But here is the twist, it turns out that this person didn’t do it either!

Now the movie picks up super speed. The cop’s think ‘man, now we have no idea who did it’. But here is the twist. It turns out that the first person they thought did it, but who didn’t do it, actually DID do it.

So now the movie is going so goddamn fast that if it doesn’t end really soon, it will get tangled in its own feet, and trip, and no one wants that to happen. So yeah, we all agree that this guy did do it, and even though we made it clear earlier that it couldn’t possibly of been him, we now show that it really was him. But here is the twist, maybe it wasn’t him. But maybe it was. But then it can’t have been. But then it definitely was. Or was it?

The End.

Now that all sounds really sad, but you’re forgetting, this isn’t real life, it’s a movie, so it’s badass. 

I’d make this movie too, only I won’t, because I don’t really like some of the things in this movie, such as:

-       Murder.

-       Cops.

-       Mistakes.

-       Ambiguity.

-       Corey Haim using metaphors about people running so fast they trip into twists about things that would be sad if they weren’t in a movie so now they’re badass, even while having a dream about Larry David, or even…

-       Beverages that were not consumed.

But here’s the twist, none of those things were part of my day today, which is why it has been the best day of my life.

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Drawings of me by me

And now a bunny 

Home is where the best day of your life is – case solved

I just wrote that headline, up there, at the head of this blog, that’s just a line of words, I wonder if that’s where that word comes from? Like it’s literal. I always thought it was because it came from someone’s head. Unlike most of the other lines that make up most newspaper columns, which come mostly from the moldy donut in the break room that has been typing furiously for 82 years, and ain’t no one is willing to even ask questions about it. ‘It’s doing the job, we ain’t messing with that’ is a very profound quote that I think would be the type of thing that the head editor of the newspaper where the donut writes would say. Although no one knows for sure, because no one bothered to write down the stuff he said.

Where was I? Oh yes, I wrote the headline for today’s blog without really thinking about what, if anything, it meant. The point is that this evening I went and saw a movie in the cinema where I used to see movies when I was at University. It was a bit of a homecoming, you might say. It put me in a reflective, nostalgic, and warm place. Which is weird because my university days were bleak, forgetful and cold.

Truth be told I chose not to dig deep into those wistful feelings this evening, I chose to instead just feel them, and not try to get any meaning or answers from them. This is rare for me; I normally overthink the fuck out of absolutely everything. I am currently even overthinking how to best express the sentiment that I way overthink, even though I know it’s something I have stated clearly in this very paragraph, and doesn’t need anymore stating, especially seeing as I genuinely don’t want to write about my overthinking issues, especially as one of the things about today that made it the best day of my life was the very absence of this overthinking in this one particular scenario. I just felt the feelings. I liked feeling them. Case solved. Or done. Or it wasn’t really a case, just, you know – that was it, because that was all it needed to be.

So I wrote tonight’s headline just from thinking ‘I might put the word “home” in there somewhere and see if it leads me anywhere’. Then without thinking anymore found myself typing ‘home is where the best day of your life is’ and then I stopped briefly. ‘Man, I could seriously unpack a line like that, the fact that it came out of my brain tonight is probably some sign that I need to do some serious thinking about where I am, where home is to me, what I want to do with the rest of my life, the immediate future, the rest of the evening, what do I want to do on Tuesday February 12^th 2039, do I want to get online and look up whether or not February 12^th 2039 is actually going to happen on a Tuesday, if it is and I just picked that date at random does that mean anything, what if that’s the day I end up dying and by some fluke these blogs are found and people start to look at as some sort of Nostradamus, only way more talented, and probably better looking, although I am basing that on likely grooming, showering and fashion trends of our respective times rather than any genuine thoughts that I am better looking than him, or anyone for that matter, and why do I say things like that, is it so bad to even think for a moment that I may be better looking than another human being, no one is going to judge me because of that, unless they do, and then that’s going to make me feel like shit isn’t it, unless they judge me favorably because of it, holy fuck I think out of six hundred million times I have felt like I am going to get judged because of something this, right now, is the first time it’s occurred to me that you can be judged favorably, wow, what does that mean?’

But then before I had the chance to write about what that headline may or may not mean, I got lost of a tangent or two, and remembered how nice it was to feel something nice and then not overthink it. So I choose not to think about what that headline means, or how it could be broken down and analyzed. I choose to feel warmth.

Ps. Some people say that newspapers are not written by a moldy donut at all and think anyone who thinks they are is nothing short of a moron, in fact you’ll often even hear them screaming out at night ‘it’s not a moldy donut that writes papers you fucking idiot, it’s a moldy bagel!’ But then who really can tell after all these many years of mold build up. It’s what’s in the middle of the mold that really identifies and represents the truth of what a person, or bakery item, you are. Oh fuck, if I was in the mood, I could totally overanalyze that.  

The Best of 2014: It’s my annual end of year list of best end of year lists of the year

Another year is almost over. This time it’s 2014 coming to an end, finishing almost an entire year after 2013, which would be an awful result in most sporting events. Although I think Lance Armstrong won by more than a year in the ‘tour de biggest cunt of a cheat in the world’ event a couple of years back. Also who could forget the Winnipeg 10k fun run two years ago when Welsh runner Kelvin Mohanny claimed he would attempt the ‘slow and steady’ tactic, and after a year of waiting officials finally began to take down the finish line paraphernalia so they could quickly set it up again for the following years race, starting that day, only to find ol’ Mohanny saunter over the finish line screaming ‘Did I win? Did I win?’ He did of course win, but only because all eight other runners that year had been sadly eaten by Sasquatch. 

With 2014 now coming to it’s own triumphant ending, two full years since 2012 itself was sadly eaten by a swarm of Amazonian Paranoia Wasps, there is one thing we all know for sure – unimaginative TV shows, magazines, websites, couch potatoes, cereal boxes, small town mayors, crazy street monologists, podcasters, radio broadcasters, and even some human beings, are coddling together a bunch of content we are all already bored sick of, and putting it on their ‘best of the year’ list. 

Well, not here. Not from me damn it. It’s now, once again, time for my exclusive, unique and fan adored – end of year list of the best end of year lists of the year:

5. ‘The Kid’s Party Clown, Magician and Super Hero Newsletter’ for their awesome list of most unique way to let out a swear after being punched in the balls by a stupid kid, without getting in trouble for swearing. Number one spot of course going to Zonno when he exclaimed ‘I may not be on top of my game, but I am FUCKtioning at the best of my ability’.

4. ‘Crap Life Hack Twitter Account’ for their list of crappiest life hacks. My personal favorite was ‘use an old DVD cover to put over a dead cockroach so your wife or housemate eventually has to pick it up, but let's face it. They probably won't, and in the end you'll have to do it, and now you have two things to pick up’.

3. ‘Tax Auditor Magazine’ for their truly hilarious, and profound list of favorite amounts people tried to illegally tax deduct. The top three of course being $12,674.98, $3.29, and $2,999.99. Really an awesome list, check it out if you haven’t already.

2. ‘Today’s Last Customer Podcast’ the podcast where people who work in retail call in and talk about the last customer they dealt with before finally quitting. And their list of top ‘we sure can tell why they quit’ callers. Top spot of the year went to Tom from Oxnard California, who quit after, and I quote ‘so this guy right, he’s like “what time do you close” and here’s the thing, the opening hours are on the door man, they’re like written right there!’

And, drumroll please, this years best, most unique, creative, and beautifully presented list of best things of 2014 list, goes to………

1. ‘Dance Studio TV’ the brand new cable channel with all dance all the time, like even if you’re not in the mood for dancing, or if the music sucks, and their brilliant list of the top ten accidental dances of the yeah. Number one spot, and who could forget it – guy trying not to fall into the volcano. Ha ha, man his hands a were swinging like a humming bird before he was burned alive in front of his entire research department, hilarious stuff. 

If I missed any great lists please feel free to let us know about them. And with 2015 here soon let’s hope for another year of great things to lead to great lists of great things all just waiting for next years list of best lists of the best of the year list. In the meantime I’ve off to do a gig as a clown at a kids party, if I get kicked in the nuts I have this one ready to go – look up at the stars, those groups are called CUNTellations!

Chucking The Best Day of my Life – I better put those on

Today was best day of my life. This is in spite of the fact that I have procured myself a huge steaming bag of the reality of having earned myself a very minor wrist injury. I got it punching a boxing bag. I punched it light, with naked fists, and then I noticed the boxing gloves sitting next to the bag and thought 'I better put those on or else I might hurt myself' then I put them on and hurt myself with my next punch. How awesome is irony???

And now here is things you learn while having a very, very minor wrist injury:

1. You can have the best day of your life even on a day you have to go easy on high fives.

- Like sure, if someone raises their hand and says something like 'right on bro' you’re gonna hit that hand, to not would make you an outcast, but it'll be at 50% of possible velocity at best.

- Ok, yeah, if he adds a 'am I right bro' you might get up to 65%.

- Yes, no, you're right; if it turns out that he was right bro then 75%. But you'll regret it. Wish he hadn't been right even.

- Unless he's a real good bro, in which case you'd instead wish your wrist didn't hurt.

- Unless your bro is sometimes a dick in which case you'd instead wish his wrist was hurt.

- Then again if he's sometimes a dick then you probably never agreed that he was right bro, at best you'd have thought 'you may be right bro... Unless your being a dick'

- This of course is all assuming that your bro isn't you're actual bro, as in your brother, biologically speaking, or emotionally, I'm not here to judge your definition of a brother, or your relationship with them, that's your business, but if it's your actual brother, let's face it, you’re probably not going to high five them. I mean you shared a bath with him for Christ's sake. How are you not scarred for life? (Or brought forever into a hugging relationship, again I'm not here to judge how you relate with your brothers).

- I have a great relationship with MY brothers, just to be clear.

- But I’m not talking about that kind of bro, I am talking about a bro who isn’t a literal bro, you know?

- And situations when you high five them.

- With a slightly injured wrist.

2. I don't like the term 'bro'. Actually I really hate it. That’s it, I am never using it ever again.

3. I have no idea what having a sister is like.

4. ‘In spite’ of the fact? Was that right way up there near the top of this blog? Or should it have been ‘despite the fact’? It’s hard to use correct language when your wrist is hurting so you need to keep your writing brief, to the point, and to end it swiftly and distinctly.

5. Hey I just noticed that ‘wrist’ and ‘write’ share a lot of similarities. I wonder if that’s a coincidence? I am starting to think back in the 1900s when half the population wrote with hands, and the other half with feet, that the wristy people had a vested interest in the word ‘writing’ becoming the norm, when it so easily could have been instead called ‘toeing’.

6. Am I right bro?