If any hit him on the lips, it’d justify the dumb band name.

I’ve had bouts of uncharismatic melancholy today, but I’ve learned that venting about things often helps. Therefore with undue fanfare I present to you:


  • I thought about the intersection of people who really like butt stuff, but also have virulent hemorrhoids. If that’s your favourite thing, but it hurts so much after each time you do it, would you still do it? Like, if you had a great orgasm but then had to shit blood for a week, would you gradually decide that the after-effects weren’t worth it any more? Then would you occasionally see a framed picture of a butt or something and hear some sad pop song and have an internal montage about the good times? Then would you do it again and be all “FOR FUCK’S SAKE” when the water in your toilet was red? Then would you wonder why there was even a framed picture of a butt in the first place and how that interior designer even got their credentials? Are there any pop songs about not being able to butt stuff any more? Wait, is that what John Cougar Mellencamp was talking about?
  • I saw some dude on the bus looking at his gmail and was too tired not to read his screen. His “social” tab was filled with emails. I saw an OK Cupid message and got excited that someone had gotten in touch with him. Then when I looked closer I realised it was some generic weekly round up thing. As he scrolled further through his inbox I counted 5 OK Cupid weekly round up emails but zero actual human messages. I felt sorry for him, but the more he scrolled the more it was apparent that he was a garbage person who never unsubscribes from promotional emails. I get it girls, he’s not worth your time.
  • I saw one of the mini candy canes in my candy cauldron and wanted to eat it. Then I realised that the last few I’ve eaten tasted stale. Then I wondered how candy goes stale. I fought an internal conflict over whether or not to eat one. Obviously it would taste stale and I’d feel shitty about eating it. I lost the battle and ate a candy cane. It tasted stale and my inner voice said seriously, what outcome did you expect? I felt shitty that I was so wrong. Conversely, I realised that my inner voice was right, so I wasn’t all wrong. I can’t bring myself to throw them out, so maybe I’ll just give them as gifts to people I don’t really like very much. What would you expect from a Jew giving you candy canes anyway?
  • When I logged onto Facebook this morning, I saw that my friend had done a big write up about David Bowie and what Bowie had meant to him. He posted a bunch of lesser known tracks and I got excited to listen to them. I thought man, so many people feel so strongly about this guy. When he dies, it’s gonna be Kurt Cobain all over again, except that Kurt Cobain didn’t even live in the age of social media. I hope we get many more years out of Bowie. Didn’t he just release an album last week? He made some neat stuff.

    Scrolling further, the next post I saw said “RIP Bowie” and the ball dropped.

  • I thought about that Smash Mouth dude and how he raged out when people threw bread at him at some artisan food festival. It’s something I’ve always found hilarious, but then I thought about how I’d feel if I were Smash Mouth dude and people threw bread at me. While bread is comical, because it’s fluffy and edible, a whole loaf would probably still hurt a bunch. If I’d been paid to come and perform, then got pelted with bread, it’d make me seriously re-think the life choices that’d brought me there. While I don’t particularly like Smash Mouth dude and often get confused between him and Guy Fieri, facing that kind of condemnation on a literal public stage would feel all types of shitty. But then I thought about Sugar Ray dude getting disproportionally angry at a teenager who called him Sugar Gay and chortled for a bit.

Perhaps I need to stop confusing sadness and boredom.


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