Just Off Center

My morning commute must shorten. It’s getting to where I feel like I’m having a schizophrenic acid trip some days. Most mornings I can simply tune in to Howard Stern or my Ipod and let the hour plus drive pass by. But if I happen to be thinking about anything too deeply, I end up having enough time on my hands where I start having a verbal conversation with myself. I’ll debate points back and forth, playing roles of myself, my wife, coworkers, etc. Sometimes it builds to an argument. This morning it was so bad, that I’ve resolved not to give myself another blowjob until I apologize… and MEAN it.

Speaking of blowjobs, I am in a bit of dry spell actually. Nina and I haven’t been arguing. Well, no more than usual anyway. But her back has been acting up again. Well, more than usual anyway. When she’s hurting like this she just wants me to hold her (gently) and try to comfort her. I try to accommodate. But every damn time I touch her all I can think about is “Bend over bitch! Humpyhumpyhumpyhumpy….” I feel like one of those horny old men who walk around Wal-Mart pinching girls’ asses. She knows this, so she’s afraid to touch me too. It’s like the Gift of the Magi over here. Except she’s trading cuddling for back pain, and I guess the watch chain is my dick.

Speaking of horny old men, I am getting old. I know I’m only 28, but I’m just now noticing some of the signs of aging. A few gray hairs have cropped up, but they don’t bother me. What gets to me is the nose hairs. I first started noticing them about a year ago. I got a nose hair trimmer and just occasionally cleaned house. Then I started trimming more and more often. Now I’m resorting to plucking. So here I sit with a plastic mirror and a pair of needle nose pliers ripping each of these tendrils from my nostrils one by one. And these things run deep too. You ladies don’t understand. The things are as long on the inside as the outside. I think I plucked on this week that was attached to my cerebral cortex. Maybe I could get waxed. Regardless, I refuse to walk around looking like a damned party favor. Some of the people at work look like they just snorted a kitten.

Speaking of people at work, about ten months ago a coworker of mine asked if we could carpool. I ended up telling him no, even though it would have knocked about 500 miles off of my car every month. My reasons were simple. First, I don’t always get to work at the same time so he couldn’t depend on my to be there at the same time each morning. Second, I don’t like the idea of being stranded at work when he drives. Third, I have my firm little sanctuary behind the wheel with my music, my temperature, and my silence. Finally, my morning coffee gives me the “winds” something terrible. That caffeine just gets the factory going and I don’t want to subject him to that. I guess it’s an earlier grave for the Lumina for me.

Speaking of music, how the fuck did country end up on the radio in my office? I fucking hate country music. And the song that was just playing had the lyrics “That’s my girl, my whole world. But that ain’t my truck” Holy shit, I didn’t know they actually made songs about their fucking trucks. I thought that was just bullshit that black guys who have never listened to country used to make fun of it. Christ, now I hate it more than ever. But I guess the lines between these two cultures are getting thinner. I just heard that Toby Keith moron sing “Who’s yer daddy?”

Speaking of cultural divides, I can’t believe the differences in theories my own friends and I have regarding our treatment of women. One in particular sees women as possessions and objects. He believes that women not only accept but also respect this idea. As such, women are only to be dealt with through the man who owns, er… is involved with them. I personally can’t abide this ethos. And while I have met a few girls in my life who want nothing more than to have their little lives planned out and controlled for them, it has been my experience that most girls are in fact… well… human beings. Maybe I’m just old fashioned here, but I just don’t see how a guy with such an exclusive and troglodytic mindset come to such a great deal of proof in success. But then I’ve heard no shortage of women saying “Hey, if she’s stupid enough to…” so I suppose it all evens out.

<>Speaking of troglodytes, I’ve often wondered how cool it would be to travel back to the age of early man just to see what would happen. Sure I’d have to learn how to defend myself and sleep on rocks, but just think of all the ways I could prove to them that I was some kind of deity. It’d be like Stargate. All I’d need is a can of aerosol, a lighter, a pistol, and a few botany and chemistry textbooks. I could set myself up in the highest cave, with bearskin suits and walk around punching people at random, who would in turn get more confused and think they had sinned against me in some way. That would kick so much ass.

<>Speaking of having way too much time on my hands, I can’t believe that I’ve been in my house for a year and I haven’t added a single coat of paint or planted a single bush. I have every intention of doing so, but I just can’t motivate myself to get out and learn how to do this shit. I suppose I must be lacking some homebuilding aspect of the male psyche. I know that once I actually get myself out there figure out how to wire my drip system, I’ll feel motivated to finish the job. And I know that once I get a good accent wall painted inside, that I’ll be all about the faux finishes. Well, maybe I’d be inspired to at least pick up enough day workers to do the job.

Speaking of day workers, another coworker of mine just sent out some pictures he took of a bunch of Mexicans looking for work outside a Circle K and the companies that hire them to all of us as well as the local police department. He was very proud of this. I asked him what his beef is with these guys looking for some work to feed their families. His response was that it’s illegal and he’s a good citizen. “What about the pirate software you install on your customers’ computers you build?” “Oh…. That’s different.” I understand that most of these guys are illegal immigrants, but they’re just looking for grunt labor work so that they can eat this week. What would you do, just rot in your homeland, because you didn’t want to break the white man’s laws?

Speaking of looking for work, I just remembered that I’m at work and should probably get back to it.