Trying to Find Love in a Side-hug

Today, I voiced a small revolt for the first time in seven months. (This is no exaggeration; I really haven’t even talked back for over 6 months) Point being, my last four Fridays, which are my only day off, got jacked. The Washington trip, one Friday work based entirely on a misunderstanding, practice for the Washington trip, and an all day practice for a drama. Then, finally, I got my Friday off. And suddenly it was snatched away. I imagine it being similar to being held hostage for twelve years, then being told you were free. And as you walk out the door, at the first glimpse of sunlight, they change their minds. (Those commie bastards)  Obviously, something needed to be done. So I threw a fit. I was guilt tripped, (But of course caught myself in mid fall), and threw it in the face of my accuser. In the end I lost. I tell you this friends, my revolt will not go silently into the night, I will not be shut out. It’s time that the nice guy wins. I have resolved to wear the biggest “get bent” on my forehead possible. I shall make sarcastic comments, be passive aggressive, and crack jokes at the expense of someone else’s dignity. (Which should in turn make me feel better.) If only it would rain and the stock market would crash tomorrow, then I could really savor this bad mood. The day was quite well until this news. I’ll give you the details. Normally I would spare you but I feel the need to fill a whole page and I’m quite long winded. So, I learned earlier this week that I had to work on my Friday. I was irritated but eventually came to terms with it. I mean, at least I still actually got some sleep. (I didn’t have to be there till 1:00) Then, towards the end of my Thursday, (I could literally taste the flavor you get in your mouth after waking up) I was told it was cancelled. (Euphoria much?). I came back to the office in quite a good mood, then found out THAT was a misunderstanding and actually, only me and one other guy had to come, but not only that, now it was at 8:30 a.m. (Crap, crap, crap.)

Till next time,

                        Sincerely, The Other Guy.

Today was a big waste of time. (Although very beneficial.) You see, today I won my quiet revolt; I did, in the end, get my day off. You may ask: “What has he done with his free time?” The answer? Not a thing.  I went to bed at 6:30 last night and crawled out of bed around noon o’clock. After that tremendously refreshing event, I sat on the couch to catch up on Band of Brothers. (Easy Company was holding the line in Bastogne.) I proceeded to do a sacrilegious amount of laundry. Every thread of my limited, (Yet extensive) wardrobe is freshly out of the wash.  So many classic rock band tees and fresh pairs of briefs. (As a fellow man you should understand the beauty of freshly washed briefs.)

With that task accomplished I felt relieved. But, (Ah, the guarantee of something more interesting being written.) an event proceeded to take place and defecate on my parade. A certain member of the household (who shall remain nameless, we will call him Blithe.) had his parents swing by for a quick chat. Now, this individual’s mother was very nice (and not the least bit unattractive. Can you say “cougar”?) His father on the other hand, was a perfect example of a pretentious, wealthy, (usually white) male. Trying his best to crack jokes at the expense of yours truly. I paid him no heed. It was as if “Blithe” was the prince and he decided to dive into the life of a peasant for nine months (To make him appreciate his gold plated swimming pool a little more) and the King, or Blithe’s father, decided to bestow upon my simple abode, his presence. I felt like less than common folk, with the ruler of the province under my roof. The snobbery polluting my humble air could easily be cut with a knife. The self-confidence building jokes made by the King were an awful attempt to relate to the peasants. (A prick of the people.) I have one thing to tell the King on behalf of all of us poor folks.

Take your Benjamin’s and cram ‘em, Bonaparte.  

                                                                                           Sincerely, The Other Guy

   As was stated previously, I’m the other guy. I’m the emotion of this journalism. George is big on evaluating and logically coming to conclusions. I am not. I rant. (Picture Dr. Cox in print.) I will go on and on making good points that are drowned by sarcasm and less than quick-wit. (Please don’t miss it.) I’m opinionated. I will likely offend anyone who has the tendency to get his or her panties in twist. (Apologies minorities, ethnicity and stereotypes of racial normality’s are funny.) I tend to focus on the negative because (to be perfectly honest) optimists annoy me. How can one be so stupid as to believe that absolutely everything will be fine all the time? (The world is not Narnia ok? Because when people die in war you can’t pull out a little vile of “Make the world better” juice.) Moving on. If I make a lightly offensive analogy you have no right to be upset. (I shall explain why) You have absolutely no idea whatsoever what ethnicity I am.  As such, whether you’re black, white, tan, yellow, green, blue, or maroon, I could be any of ‘em, so taking offense makes no sense.  So that being said, please try and understand that this is all in good nature. 

I am the Other Guy.

I’m every race, every religion, and every point of view. (Sort of.)

Fear me, for my name mustn’t be spoken. (Voldemort.)

(Fin.)