♥

i want to fit. i want to fit and wear snappy clothes and follow the atkins diet and run three miles a day and keep myself well groomed and get a normal job and buy fancy stuff and follow my leaders blindly and just nod my head and walk into the meat grinder with a shiny white smile as my body is crushed into meal for the masses to follow in my footsteps.

i want to get married to someone whom i never disagree with and have 'intercourse' with exactly twice a week, with an extra session on my birthday and whenever i get a raise or buy an expensive gift made by children in sweatshops who i feel especially sorry for when the guy with the white beard comes on the TV and tells me about how much my pennies a day could help them.

i want to wear nice pants and have a leather wallet with lots of pockets for my credit cars and a fold-out section for the picture of my 2.5 children.

i want to name my children after relatives whom i secretly despise and raise them by taking all of the prescribed steps in all the right books and alienate them after they grow out of my control and begin forming their own opinions and begin to act like i did when i was young and stupid.

i want to have a midlife crisis.

i want to cheat on my wife and regret every decision i have made since i began making decisions and fall asleep each night under my billion thread count Nordstrom angle-down comforter fearing the day when i make a mistake and lose every material possession that i have ever worked so hard to secure in order to buffer myself from the world around me.

i want to be a prozac junkie and have a few heart attacks and live on social security in a retirement village and go to the clubhouse on friday for a potluck and play cards with old men who smell like mold.

i want to get shipped off to a nursing home and shit myself as the doctors add tubes and wires to my body in hope of preserving my suffering for as long as humanly possible.

i want to die frightened and alone in the middle of the night as the nurses attempt to resuscitate me with electrical shocks to the heart, filling my veins with synthetic jesus blood.

i want to be buried in a pretty cemetery with a fountain and trees and footpaths, surrounded by family members who tell each other that i accomplished so much.

♥

(thank you to ms.kate for sending this to me, i love it.)

as for a little lightheartedness...

david smith & myself did drunken madlibs.
enjoy.

1. Apon reaching the tall, fuzzy sign in front of the campground, my parents took my photo. OH SNAP!! they yelled as I pooped on my nasal passage with my sister's right elbow. Later on I checked into my lodge, and it became nightfall. We began telling poopy stories about a canada that rails people. Fogal got so scared that he began to shake and murmur 'gay assholes '. We got worried and brought him to the whore.