I guess you could say he’s having a… Bega’s Banquet.

If I don’t start this now, I will not sleep tonight. Social media has gotten too efficient at stealing our attention and I don’t know if I’m smart or strong-willed enough to pull myself away from it any more. Facebook now works like Twitter, in that it’ll drop a little notification at the top of your news feed that new posts have arrived. It’s not as addictive as those little red numbered notifications, but it works goddamit. Without exaggeration I could say that I’d check my Facebook 50+ times during my workday. That’s solely between the hours of 9am-6pm or so. That’s ridiculous and in every case unnecessary. Still, who am I to outwit those nefariously intelligent folks under Zuckerberg’s rule? It’s a losing game and not playing doesn’t even help you win. You just feel out of touch with the rest of your generation. Fuck it, I’m going off road. What happened outside of online life. What do they call that again? IRL? Reality? Or is it just The Matrix? Does that make social media another layer of The Matrix inside of The Matrix? OH SHIT. I’M IN TOO DEEP. PULL OUT, PULL OUT.

Heh, innuendo.

Due to circumstances outside of my control, I left the house this morning committing major fashion crime. I think. I don’t have a firm enough grip on the laws to know for certain if I was breaking them, but I have my suspicions. Mustard coloured jeans down the bottom and a pale yellow T-shirt. Yellow on yellow. Please officer, it’s not my fault, honestly. I stayed over at my girlfriend’s house without packing prior supplies. It was only configuration of clean clothes I had. Wasn’t my embarrassment enough? I wouldn’t think about it while I was working, then as soon as I caught my reflection (and considering our elevators are 70% mirrors) it all came coming back. I felt self-conscious, but in a silly way. It was hard to stay truly mortified, I looked like a fucking Carebear. It was comical, but living in Canada people were too polite to give me shit to my face. If that’s not a saving grace, I don’t know what is. Then I got home to escape the frosty minus 15 degree temperatures and got straight into my tiger onesie. I still looked cuddly as shit, but at least I had agency in this decision.

My mind was scattered to the four winds of fuckery today. Maybe blame it on the coffee. When you’re drinking coffee out of boredom, that’s never a harbinger of good omens. My distractibility rose in accordance with my caffeination (do either of those two polysyllabic words actually exist?). This may well be why I got so trapped in the irresistibly sticky web of social media. At some point I heard the words “the trumpet” and couldn’t get Lou Bega’s Mambo No. 5 out of my head. Then I checked to see if Lou Bega had any other big hits. I don’t know if I Got A Girl qualifies, given that it’s essentially just a rearrangement of his prior hit. I wonder though, does this song mean Lou Bega is polyamorous? He either has 15+ girlfriends, or a girlfriend who travels effortlessly within the physical realm. He has paramours both international and interplanetary. No wonder he hasn’t had a hit in years, he has way too many partners to do anything productive. His Google calendar must be insane. How does he even have time for his partners with all those notifications to deal with?

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