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Before I lay this out for you I'm going to list some facts:
- I am a dick
- I love money
- I spend money
- I love booze
- I drink booze
- I love cigarettes
- I smoke cigarettes
- I hate being broke
- I love my family
- I hate my family
- I rant
- I love fast food
- I never have money
- Since blogspot told me to I love scooters, vacation, and fall, three of the most vindictive topics in my life
Now, I've come to a realization lately that I've learned how to piss people off. This doesn't mean just anybody, but mainly my family. Touch on one little note that anyone finds offensive or "touchy" and they will fucking EXPLODE!
Recently I've declared myself as the proverbial "Black Sheep" of my family. I think it all started when I was the last one left in my parents house and had to move into my dungeony basement. Now, I say dungeony with such disdain not because of the pimpalicious lair I built it into but more so the place it resided: Wayne, NE. That place ruins people. It makes you have kids, or drop out of college, or get a few MIPs or DUIs. I didn't have kids, get any MIPs, or DUIs, what the fuck do you think happened? I moved away, started school, dropped out because in my opinion I got FUCKED, and sit here wasting away for a little while smoking way too many cigarettes, pounding way too many beers, and wasting a lot of money on music and food.
Back to my offensive with this blog. I get drunk, I yell, I talk, I'm obnoxious, and worst (best) of all...I tell secrets, I spill my guts. Anyone with skeletons in their closet should know by now that I shouldn't know old raggedy bones' name otherwise I'll spill it all over until he's a fucking celebrity. With that, if you do something I disagree with, people will hear about it. Sometimes I'm worse than a 13-year old girl at a fucking pep rally. I've come to terms with my idiocy, especially after my "bout of silence".
I watched a movie once, it was called "Little Miss Sunshine". Shortly thereafter I did what any impressionable college-aged human would do and quoted it. But it was a different sort of quote. That movie "moved me" or some bullshit like that and I decided it may be fun to try a month of silence. I made it a few days by nodding my head or writing notes, but I realized the uncanny amount of stupid things people will say if I don't steal it out of their mouth first. Needless to say that "bout of silence" lasted no longer than a virgin in bed for the first time.
Once again, back to my offensive, I need some fucking Ritalin. I'll call a very close person to me "Kevin". Now, Kevin is ultimately a good person, but as with everyone he's got his faults. His fault you ask? His dick's got a mind of his own, that or it's got opposite roots that have infected his brain to the point that he will always, and this is not an exaggeration, always think about sex somewhere in his brain. They say the average human only uses about 10% of their real brain power while the rest goes unnoticed to stupid things like motor skills, I'd say about 3% of that 10% goes to the mission of bagging chicks. The worst part is it turned into an "all he could get buffet" for awhile. Granted, things have gone up and down a lot, it's always been lingering.
With that said about Kevin, we can revert back to my old raggedy bones movement. Everyone is shooting for some sort of action, especially if they're at a party or a gathering, and we will all pounce all over anything we can get. Say Kevin brings over Girl #1. Girl #1 starts talking to me, and I spill the beans on Kevin, or whoever the fuck Girl #1 came with. That leaves the scoreboard Jordan-1, Kevin-0, until Kevin hears about it and it's all lies. See, it really is a double-edged sword, I'll say something about Kevin, Kevin will denounce it as lies, and we will both be in the wrong. I'll be in the wrong for spilling the beans, and Kevin will be in the wrong for saying the truth is lies. If you haven't gathered yet, Kevin is actually my older brother with a shadow cast over me.
Now back to how big of a piece of shit I am. I have a job, I am somewhat respected in this job as best you can be, I'm "management". I am "the phone police". We're going to call me job "PRU" or "Phones 'R' Us". Basically, this telemarketing firm pushes insurance, and it's a big runaround that I won't explain, considering my job is to be right in the middle of it telling lies to every party involved (it makes me feel like a lawyer, which gets me all fucking giddy). I work as little as possible at my job for two reasons: A) I love to party, too much and B) I've been waiting for my raise for a long time now. Maybe if they gave me incentive to work more I'd be less broke all the time. I spend all my money on booze and cigarettes, we already went over this, but I find it a very important fact of my life so I gloat about it like somebody would their Mustang or Mustang Sally.
When I get drunk, or when I stay sober, I tell people I'll pay them back, or give them something when I have the money. Do I? Very rarely. And it's not because I'm that big of an asshole, in fact I believe strongly in the virtues of Capitalism and Supply & Demand. I don't pay them back because I've spent all my money on booze and cigarettes. I do this to everyone in reach, my friends, my family, people I don't even know, to the point that it makes me an asshole. To be quite honest, being an asshole is fun and since everyone sees me as one, I may as well keep leeching as long as I can.
Big D and the Kids Table put it best with the line "Glad I can't stop from just smilin' while that damn sun is shinin' on well it's just shinin' down all over me।" They also put all the naysayers in the spotlight with "I think it's stupid all the people who are moanin' yeah moanin' while the sun is shinin' down on our city streets." We all have bad days, but is it really all that bad here? Think about all the fun times had at little gatherings. Sure, we might not have a settling little rager to hit every weekend where dozens of chicks leave in a vodka-induced craze, dudes leave wasted and horny, yet unfulfilled, some poor soul leaves with a blackeye or bloody nose, and the owners of the party house get stuck with a warm red flag and a nice noise complaint ticket. Think about all the people who really care about you and try to make a difference in our lives. We all have our demons, addictions, and vices such as alcoholism, hypochondria, ignorance, low self-esteem, and maybe even depression. We are all who we are for those reasons among many others left unsaid, but look past the fact that not all of us have bright futures and you might notice that this is a pretty tight-knit town. Sure, we've got some petty vendettas and grudges, but who cares about that shit really? I guess some of us were just born not to care, others were born to care too much.
I'm going to make myself into a long-running joke among my friends to bring everyone up during these "hard times"। I went out and got a mohawk under some whiskeyful influence, which I, for one, think is hilarious. I'll top it off with some lightning bolts or something just to change it up. "Born to just never care bout these stupid things people moan everyday." That's more Big D. I hope in twenty years I'll be seen as that guy who used to try and bring something positive, not just some drunken indebted slob who mooched all he had.
Maybe it's Winter that does this to everyone। Let me rephrase that, it's Winter that does this to everyone. This is what I call "Winter Madness". "Winter Madness" is the first cousin of "Road Madness", which I encounter on the road to anywhere...vacation....tour.....what have you. Winter Madness eats away at your emotions like an empty tapeworm just entering the intestines of your motivation and happiness. Let that motherfucker feed on something else because you've got a close future full of flip-flops, shorts, endless days, longer nights, the sun beating down on UV-shaded eyes, and that feeling of endless content that tries like hell to stick around until September to look forward to it. So let that tapeworm feed on your schoolwork or something you don't enjoy and partake in the things you really like.
Don't let Winter Madness and his evil friend Mr। Tapeworm take you over. Go listen to something positive or engage in something you love. Put down your seemingly endless collection of depressive music and reach for the tiny bit of happiness your music library contains. You can always bring out the depressive music during the summer when you decided you're happy you aren't like them.
There's my motivational speaking for awhile...just shut the fuck up about all of your bad times, because they aren't that bad. I sat in my basement with my mp3 player, a quarter-pack of smokes, and a horribly mixed drink and wrote this in complete contentful bliss. Maybe I've found my calling, that or my cure for Winter Madness is writing. See you all in the sun...and the snow....and the rain.
I wrote this awhile ago, it's quite comical. It's a quick look into personal hygeine from the eyes of me, Jordan B. Elfers.
Ironic part is that I wrote this at the beginning of January. Since, everything has gotten a lot more agreeable except my feet.
I shower daily. When I say I shower daily, I mean I scrub, exfoliate, sing, dance, and rinse daily. Most people can't cross off one of those list-ridden verbs daily. I shower daily for many reasons, but the biggest one is that I can't seem to get as clean as the general college-age populous unless I scrub the shit out of myself for what I project to be three full days. Two days of not showering means my undergarments will be either burned or wrapped in plastic and thrown in the wastebasket. Everyone else can hit a few days, pop them in the washer, and be set for another bout of bad hygiene.
Maybe my body just exudes waste faster than yours. My face collects grease and clogs my pores, my hair tends to look like a rat in an oil can, and my boxer-breifs or boxers...we won't even touch that subject. I want to be diagnosed with a hygiene disorder. Quick-dirty-itis, something along those lines. Maybe I'm just out of shape which makes me sweat and shit more, but that wouldn't make any sense because I know guys who drink two pounds of protein mix a day and can shit me under the table. My feet even begin to stink daily now, however I blame that on walking more and wearing leather shoes a majority of the time.
I once lived with a guy who could go a week or more without showering, he'd just wash his hair and face and shave his beard. I guess if I had thicker hair and a wicked beard I'd be able to cover up the upper deck stench better, but what about the rest of his body? He doesn't really sweat, rarely farts, and even more rarely does the man take a shit. That's what I call a super not irritable bowel syndrome, something any aspiring clean person prays for on the norm. I suppose it could be my eating habits that result in my extreme focus of glandular expulsion.
I suppose I don't eat any differently than the rest of you, as of late especially. Normally my diet consists of two full meals a day (due to my wonderfully timed sleeping schedule). After I wake up sometime between 11 a.m and 1 p.m. I hit the computer, TV, or respective novel for thirty minutes to an hour, I have a cigarette, and the proceed to cook or throw together a decently well-rounded meal. For instance, if I eat two hot dogs I make sure to put cheese on there for the milk group (it's hard for me to drink a hearty glass, seeing as I'm quite stricken with Lactose Intolerance), I also throw ketchup on there just in case there isn't any greenery set aside for my trap to chomp down. Since my recent move there've been more greens so I've tried to stray away from condiments. In the rightful case I'm hitting every food group except for fruit, but when was the last time I had fruit that wasn't involved with alcohol or some concentrated fruit drink? That was probably years ago. If I don't choke down the dual hot dogs with greens on the side add cheese and water, it will probably be the other OscarMeyer delight, a sandwich (sangwich as I lovingly dub it). Toasted bread (probably white because I'm a cheapskate), one slice of OscarMeyer Chopped Ham (I think 80% of it is not, in fact, ham), one slice of Kraft cheese, topped with a slice of OscarMeyer Lean Bologna, two Claussen Sandwich Stacker Pickles, and one Vlasic Pickled Pepperoncini (Or Peppers! as Vlasic proudly describes them). As you can see, on the day-to-day my food vocabulary is very limited. Every now and again I will throw out something insane that I've been planning on cooking for a long time such as some broccoli and beef or some noodle suprise. I've gotten pretty good at cooking, but never utilize my culinary skills on the daily. Once at work I order whatever everyone else is ordering, which usually results in something extremely high in protein, fat, and calories. Not that I really monitor those things, but as I write this I'm starting to realize more and more why I sweat so much.
Strike shoes, sleep schedule, lack of exercise, and horrible diet off of the list and what are we left with? Drinking habits and general laziness. I drink far too often. And when I do drink it normally consists of beer, on occasion I'll go crazy and get some hard booze, some gin, whiskey, what have you, but on the whole it's beer. This, I know, does not help my hygienic stature. Most people wake up after a long night of drinking smelling like a bar. I, however, wake up smelling like a steamy load of shit dropped in a tobacco shack that once doubled as a feedlot. Maybe that's just Gods way of telling me I shouldn't drink anymore. But what does he really know about me? He didn't help me when I had gun pulled on me or when some crackhead stole my friends GameCube from my house. Alas, drinking is a giant addition to my hygiene problem. It's always been my opinion that alcohol can literally exude from your pores after excessive drinking, but I think in my case it actually stays in my body and forces out all of my waste in the fashion of a bullet traveling from the gun shaft. I'll stick to drinking, because when I don't I feel too creative.
The last available answer is overall laziness. It's to the point now that I'd rather sleep for three extra hours and feel like shit for oversleeping than get out of my bed to take a piss. That, my friends, is laziness. When given the chance to leave early from work, where I do next to nothing anyway, I leave early even if I have t walk home, which should technically cancel out my laziness, right? Wrong, the whole walk home I'll be bitching about walking and kicking myself for not convincing a friend to pick me up. My physical activity is limited now, it normally consists of walks up and down the stairs to shower, sleep, or use the bathroom. I also walk outside frequently to smoke. If smoking were a university, it would be my alma mater. I believe smoking cancels out all the bad shit I put in my body by speeding up my metabolism. I don't care if it's a myth, if it is I hope they don't put it on Myth Busters, because my life will then be ruined. I have a small net of walking distance downtown when my bus stops. It consists of 12th and Q to 14th and O to 17th and P to 14th and N. Those locations hold my job, Subway, Jake's smoke shop, the bookstore, the coffee house, Kabredlo's, Wells Fargo, and the public library. Strewn about that region are random eateries, and not too far off are my favorites: Amigos and Arby's. That is the extent of my physical experience aside from walking to the bus stop which is hardly a block away. I also walk from cars to other houses only to repeat the same process involving only the bathroom, the fridge, and the porch.
In retrospect, my hygiene is the way it is due to my lifestyle. If I were an olympic swimmer I would consistently smell like roses or whatever million dollar cologne I felt like wearing that day, but I would also have to work out. It's a double-edged sword in my fair opinion. I can take the time to shower every single day with one unattainable goal in mind, or I can actually work for it and save time not showering. Why should I care, I lose wither way. I either shower and feel clean and live to my standards, or I fix my shape and don't shower and don't feel clean. If you want good hygiene, reverse the way I live, but keep the daily showers. Show this to your fucking children and save them the burden of finding out on their own that they're going to end up this dirty without my advice.
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