Volume 1- Lazy Bitch
You know you’re a lazy bitch when you come to the realization that you, like your ill-disciplined child, casually brush the crumbs from your everyday sweatshirt, cascading them to the already dirty floor. The realization isn’t that you DID it, but that you DO it all the time. You just never ever mark the action as your own.
Pondering this, you look through the window and with that same ‘who would have guessed’ nonchalant surprise, notice the sun-faded yellow, but still-legible R-value stickers from your 2009 window replacement. Now internally curious, you follow the realization thread, and if you were to close your beautiful wooden-slat blinds of the same age, you’d note with growing contempt the thick layer of dust accumulated since that very same year. Your life is like one long episode of The Middle, living on perpetually in syndication; although you suspect Frankie Heck actually is more with it than you are.
But….. then….. you think that maybe….., just maaaaybe…. you’re not just a lazy bitch.
YOURE A FUCKING SUPERSTAR! You don’t actually have to do anything at this point; you aren’t expected to.
On a possibly related note, I’ve personally been playing Soda Crush like a boss.
FYI, Soda Crush is superior to Candy Crush for two reasons: honey bears and making fish.
It’s ridiculous, I know. I feel fucking stupid even typing this at all. And furthermore, if I wasn’t so fucking lazy, I might even endorse the time killing, mind numbness of Tiny Tower which houses my 85 bitizens in 48 floors of food, services, recreational, creative, retail spaces, and residential apartments.
God, I just wish I had enough tower bux to buy a faster elevator.
And what’s up with all the damn pixels now anyway? Is this a Minecraft thing? Because I can’t figure that fucker out. Ok, I haven’t really tried that hard but I can’t seem to get over the POV.
And then you die. The end. Super glad I spent about 9 literal months of my life playing Soda Crush.
And here’s another random thought, brought to you by the glaze in my eyes when I read exceptionally long quoted captions on social media (ok, primarily the lyrics of entire songs; just STOP THAT). This won’t hurt, but it is annoyingly random.
I’m not one of those assholes constantly quoting Bukowski. Truth is, I’ve never read him. I’ve thought about it but then again I don’t want to be one of those assholes always quoting Bukowski, you know what I mean?
This brings me to the point of this insipid poem: recommendations! I love recommendations. Being a lazy bitch, though, I don’t usually take recommendations well but hey what the hell. I’m going with song recommendations here. Ready? It’s “Bukowski” by Modest Mouse. Why? Because after all these years, all it took was one song to make me actually consider reading him. And shit, as I type this, I think, ok, it’ll be ok if I just do a quick Wikipedia search, just for a little bit of background on the guy. And the first thing I see is “don’t try”. Yeah, it’s on his gravestone. Tell the lazy bitch “don’t try.” Don’t try. I’m trying to forget I ever saw that. Blah blah blah. Fuck Bukowski. What an asshole.
So what’s the point of this short, adjective-laden monologue?
Well… that it’s OK to be a lazy bitch….
and to play stupid games that are probably killing your mind, body and soul….
Maybe its ok to read and even (gasp) quote Bukowski occasionally (maybe)….
As long as it doesn’t interfere with your mental and physical health. Um wait no, scratch that.
As long as you don’t let it bother you too much. Dirt under the rug is one thing, but dirt in the mind is another. Hmmm wait. Well maybe that’s an ok thing too. Just don’t drink too much or smoke too much and you’re cool.
Er, um, well. Never mind that. As long as you’re not creeping up on middle age it’s ok, right? Well shit, maybe you’re just having a mid-life crisis. Oh fuck. Fuck it. I give up. You’re just a fucking superstar. Especially if you can still at least pretend you’re a fucking superstar at work and on social media (while you’re a stinking pile of shit at home), you’re all right. Nothing wrong with that. Nothing at all. Everyone else is a fucking idiotic moron. It’s you baby. You may be looking at the world through pixel-colored glasses, but it’s all you, especially if you don’t try.