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The Curly Locks of A Genius
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Last night at ate
cereal from a regular sized cereal bowl. I realize that this is a
rather odd way to begin a new post but please do go along with it. As
some may have realized I have been absent for quite some time. This
is due to self loathing and meandering through life in what I like to
refer to as “White guy woman depression” allow me to rewind a
little.
It's
Tuesday morning, I am not at work today, I open my eyes in a
disappointing fashion and struggle to see the clock through my hazed
Rum and Tramadol pained state and notice it's midday. Today I will
make a choice, I will segregate myself away from the world and wallow
in the self pity that I have yet again found myself in. First step I
need to eat. In my barely functional mode I look to the kitchen and
reach for the cereal. Problem one hits me in the face like Bobby
Brown on a bender. I have broken all of the bowls and I have no way
to eat my beloved cereal, or do I? In the hallway cabinet I have a
brand spanking new washing up bowl, I couldn't could I? Well I only
ask this question to myself now because I will be honest, I did. I
filled that black plastic bowl of dreams to the very brim and glazed
the dusty brown fruity goodness of fruit and fibre with a pint of
milk, grabbed a bottle of rum from the kitchen work surface and made
my way back to the sofa of dreams.
Two hours
later I seem to find myself shoveling soggy cereal into my mouth,
very inebriated, cloaked in a quilt, dressed in only my underwear and
watching the notebook on Netflix whilst sporadically shouting at the
television offensive nonsense. You see there are some of us out there
who do not cope well with the departing of ways from a woman, I
am not ashamed to admit I am one of them but I did myself become a
woman in the process, not an actual woman may I add. I don't tuck
anything between my legs and start calling myself Susan when I look
into the mirror.
As
usual I digress, now people say everything happens for a reason and
these situations show up to teach us valuable lessons. Let me first
start by saying, whoever “These People” are, you are all
absolutely wrong you wrong and not just wrong but so wrong in fact,
that you couldn't be more wrong if the international wrong club
showed up at your house on a Saturday afternoon, with five of the
finest wrongers and spelled the word wrong using their wrongly shaped
freak bodies! The only lesson I have actually learned from this whole
experience is that If I ever see Michael Cera in real life, I will
find a plethora of offensive words and possibly beat him to death
using one of his legs which I hope may become a separate entity
to his body in a near fatal traffic accident!! I mean how is this guy
even famous! Absolutely everything about him screams sex offender!
This guy is a just a Neverland away from
a court case!
I
gradually find myself as time slowly moves on, not so much in a state
of recovery and the 7 stages of grief just don't apply but more in
the most complicated state, yet amusing now I regress and look back.
Now being a sad, lonely Caucasian gentleman. First thing is first. I
must create a playlist! Do not sit there and judge me! We all do
this, music is great to set the mood and I needed the right mood.
Rule one! Absolutely no soppy love songs! I remember yesterday whilst
dining on coco pops skimming the music stations and Michael Bolton
rearing his remarkable curly blonde locks, don't get me wrong Mr
Bolton is one of those people you just empathize with, I remember in
the midst of my milk turning really chocolatey thinking, you sing it
Bolton, I feel your pain. This was possibly a turning point for me if
I am honest. I think if you are sitting in your pants, drinking Rum
and eating coco pops at 2pm on a Wednesday afternoon whilst having a
conversation with Michael Bolton, you should also reconsider the
direction your life is taking.
Now
in the present day, I feel good. Well as good as somebody like me can
feel I have a playlist of death metal and the best of the worst of
80's hair metal. I have stopped eating so much All Bran and thus
stopped spending 6 hours a day in the WC. I haven't watched Chocalat
in a while now and I have also decided to be an adult about things
and forgive the person that totally ruined my life in every way and
Allow her the somewhat displeasure of being my friend. Now
I am left with only one small problem, I am a socially awkward 30
year old with no brain to mouth filter, I look a little like the love
child of Crispin Glover and Adrien Brodie and now I have to do the
dating thing again. I think I may be in trouble. On the positive side
though, I am back and now there will be just no filtering...
