Dear Black Mamba,
‘Twas the Tuesday night of my spring break vacation when I sat in my room; my mind was at a quandary. I was asking myself, “How can I waste my time tonight?” Then suddenly, a solution to my dilemma came at me, with a force so strong, I almost launched out of my fucking seat!
The best way to do waste your time is to not waste it at all.
How’s that, one may ask. Was the answer to my problems playing guitar in preparations for our future of sex, drugs, and sweet, sweet rock n’ roll? Writing meaningful sonnets dedicated to my affection for the Master and Commander of my broken heart (meaning Bob Bryar)? Perhaps the answer was to play Trivial Pursuit, while dressed as Judy Garland from Wizard of the Oz, as I sang popular show tunes of the 1950s? I’m afraid none of these options would suffice. They were simply child’s play in comparison to what I had in store for the rest my evening.
“Look: our forefathers died for the pursuit of happiness! Not the “sit-around-and wait” of happiness! Now if you want, you can go to the same bar, drink the same beer, talk to the same people every day, or, you can lick the Liberty Bell! You can grab life by the crack and lick the crap out of it!”
-NPH as Barney on HIMYM
It was legend—wait for it—dary!
Yes. I spent two hours watching a few of my favorite episodes from my How I Met Your Mother DVDs. I was not completely satisfied by just watching them; I had to throw all logic joylessly to the wind, and allow my brain to indulge in the entire How I Met Your Mother experience.
So I cracked open a Mountain Dew--so cold that it nearly burned my throat as it cascaded down my esophagus, traveling to it’s proper destination in the tummy of Yours Truly. It was so refreshing that it managed to do the unfeasible, and quench my unquenchable thirst. I know we agreed to quit that shit for the sake of either of us ever being physically appealing ever again, but tonight was different. I popped the DVD in, and within a matter of mere seconds, that jolly tune ringed throughout my living room. Soon, the actors were on the screen and Bob Saget’s voice was narrating the scenario they were in, and the jokes were coming at an endless stream and I was laughing! I was laughing my ass off! My stomach was starting to ache, because of it! And my eyes began to well up! It was just what the doctor ordered. And even though I watch this show every Monday night, tonight was special. It gave me an odd sort of comfort, but at the same time it was mixed with an almost painful nostalgic feeling. As I was trying to locate the source of my sentimental longing, there was a huge--
POW!
[As in the noise, not the acronym for prisoners of war]
It hit me. There I was: sitting in a room at nighttime; drinking Mountain Dew; laughing my fucking ass off; during a school break; watching the greatest show ever! Sound familiar? I was literally almost relieving this year’s fall break, with one exception. What is the ingredient missing in this recipe, one may ask them self?
I’ll tell you what it is: my best fucking friend wasn’t there! I grew extremely upset. I had flashbacks of when you, Bowl Cut, and I would go out in the street at very unreasonable hours, and you’d smoke your cancer-causing-agents, and I’d try to reenact Ted’s “Rain Dance”, and Bowl Cut would kind of just stand there, doing whatever it is that he does. And we’d all be quoting our favorite lines, saying such things as “What’s it to you, Giant Turtle?” and “Slow and Steady wins the race.” Then we’d run back in the house, eat macaroni and cheese, continuing to drink mass amounts of Dew—completely oblivious to the certainty that all of that would come back to us in ass fat—and just spend hours laughing until we’d bleed.
I found myself filled with guilt and shame. Like, kind of when you watch The Boondocks Saints, and then later that day you and you’re hands decided to make a pit stop at Pleasure Town’s Self Service Gas Station. But then once your done, you have to go to get a glass of water, and your family’s watching TV and you can’t even look them in the eyes, because of how ashamed you are…I’m guessing…
Back to the point…
I realize how this just makes me sound lame, and how it would definitely help someone prove how pathetic and sad I am. And I know if my parents knew that watching TV was my idea of a good time, I get lectured on how there are much more productive, memorable activities to do at this age. But fuck that!
I know this is kind of a roundabout way of saying this, but the point I am trying to make is that, right now, I miss you so much its retarded. That's basically the entire reasoning behind this post... well, that and to waste time.
We're Going To Philly!
Sidewinder
P.S. Oi! Prick! I called you back, and you definitely didn't answer. Way to suck my balls, you fucking asshole.
