Havin’ Some Fun

I put on E.T. because I haven’t watched it in like 10 years and right at the beginning when they leave him behind, I thought to myself…” Holy shit. I don’t belong on this planet either. I probably just don’t remember coming down here and being left behind. And we could morph into whatever creature we want to so that explains my appearance. Then I just come round full circle and realize how delusional I am. Then I went to bed. It was all very exciting. Didn’t even get to the Reese’s Pieces part. I just clocked out and still forgot what happens after they leave him behind. I’ll just assume he pays a well-known videographer/director to make him a video to get into Harvard and he gets in and he doesn’t fit in, so he gets bullied by 18–23-year-olds for like the first half of the year. Then he gets the hang of thigs and people start getting impressed and he makes a best friend who knows the ins and outs of college life and teaches E.T. how to maneuver through college in a cool and suave way. Then E.T. becomes a lawyer who graduates at the top of his class. And honestly, I don’t know where I’m going with this. Would you hire an alien as a lawyer??? But there’s no way in hell he’d be better than Reese Witherspoon so E.T. falls into a deep dark depression after not realizing he isn’t the best lawyer out there. I don’t know if that’s like a delusional thing or like a stubborn thing. I mean Tenacious D wrote that song “To Be the Best” and that’s probably E.T.’s go to song in the morning when he’s making his coffee. It’s not “Perfect Day” by Hoku that Elle Woods puts on. Which one of those songs would win? I mean both mean something to me. “Perfect Day” reminds me of my sister and our bond and the movie and “To Be the Best” is just awesome so I think Tenacious D wins in my city. They would be Mayor… and cause all sorts of shenanigans throughout the city or town. How does being mayor work? I’m from Costa Rica so I don’t think we have mayors. Just one really corrupt president. Or maybe he’s an alien too. How many people here do you think are aliens? And I obviously don’t mean just a guy or gal from another Country entering another Country. Like you let that shit slip one day and you’re like “Hi I’m from Saturn… oh fuck I mean…” and then the other girl is like “No. No. It’s totally cool. I’m from Neptune.” And the guy is like “Holy shit I thought I was about to get shot for that. Thank “________”.” (Whoever they believe in). Yeah so the next new person that comes into your life, you better probe (not trying to be funny here or make a pun) you probe them for information about where they come from and who they really are because they could be an alien in disguise that was left behind here on Earth or was just traveling and decided to move here. Dude, you never know. You never know. How the hell could you know. No one knows EVERYTHING. People just assume everything. That is the big difference. And I don’t mean those “Who Wants to be a Millionaire” people. They know a lot, but they don’t know everything. How about throw some spiritual questions in that questionnaire and they will be phoning Jesus in like 3 seconds. That show was fucking rigged. I don’t give a fuck what you say. And the audience would be guessing the answer like 20% a) 20% b) 30% c) 30% d) and when you ask the guy to 50-50 that shit you get b) and d). And to win a million dollars you try phoning the pope, but he’s busy dry cleaning his hat. So, you choose b) and congrats. You win. Pure luck.

Oh, and for the record I’m writing all this without my contacts in. Or wearing my glasses. Why do I need glasses? I used to have 20-20 vision, but this asshole decided to point a military grade green laser at my right eye one night and gave me an astigmatism. Fun, right? Just wanted to write that in here in case he ever reads this. Stop reading my stuff, scumbag.

Anyways…

You know one thing awesome about owning an awesome cat? That they are AWESOME. He’s not like a wiggety cat like scared all the time. (I don’t know what wiggety really means. I think it’s a made-up word for spazzy and wigged out). He’s super chill. One time I shook my coffee at him. It was in a closed lid ice coffee type thing and instead of him running away and bolting like a scaredy cat he was just like, “What the fuck are you doing?” looking at me with eyes like “What the fuck, dude?” My other cat, the younger one… the female I did the same coffee shake test on her and she didn’t move she just looked at me and was like “Uhhhh…...” because she trusts me that much that I would never hurt her. And she is one of the scardiest cats I’ve ever seen. She doesn’t like or rather, trust other people. She hides. I always look insane when people walk in my room and ask, “How many cats do you have?” and I say “Two” and they just see Gobs. That the older chill cat and Z the younger female cat is under the bed or sofa or something. And they go “Oh…so where is the other cat?” and every time I just must explain that she’s scared or doesn’t like you or whatever. I’m thinking of just saying I have one cat and if she decides to come out sometime, I’ll just be like “Holy shit there’s another cat in my room. Where the hell did it come from?” and my friend will be like “There’s been another cat living here this whole time?” and I’ll play dumb and be like “Gee whiz I guess so. Holy crap.”

On another note… Do you ever ask your cat “What?” or “What are you doing?” I have to ask Gobs “what?” because he keeps pawing at me and if I don’t respond he just keeps going or I’ll ask him “What are you doing?” and he’ll chill for a while until he wants to keep me in suspense some more.

Well one of my friends told me I have to “Try to take life in a relaxed way”. Hmm… well first off… I’m not a stoner so, that’s definitely off the board, I’m not a hippie or a Rastafarian either so I can’t be like “What’s up, man?” all the time. I don’t like The Beatles or Reggae. I will get back to the Beatles for all of you silently judging me. And I don’t use cbd gummies or any of that crap. I’m just naturally chill and shit hypes me up. Like awesome shit. Like I love adrenaline probably because I’m so chill all the time and I need a little push into WAAAAAA mode.

Now about the Beatles. I don’t like their voices. I don’t like a lot of bands from that era’s voices. They are too calm. A little too faggy. So, I feel like I’m listening to two gaylords sucking each other off for three to five minutes at a time. I don’t like it. HOWEVER, and this is where my redemption comes in. I like the lyrics. The voices can go to hell for all I care, but the lyrics are awesome. When I saw Across the Universe I was like “Holy Shit.” And when I heard Disturbed sing The Sound of Silence I was like “Holy Shit” again. So, it’s not the band necessarily. I mean it’s not their fault they have faggy voices... shit happens. But their lyrics are awesome. So that is that.

To close off I wrote this thing two different days, so it probably sounds a little different or strange, but I’m not going for the gold medal in normal. Like… ever. Just listening to one of my 300 playlists on Spotify. Yeah, it’s official, I’ve made 300 playlists. I don’t know if that’s normal or healthy or…whatever but it feels right and that’s all that matters.

Oh God. I wonder if that’s how serial killers justify what they do. Like they’ll murder a whole family and be like… “Oh God. What have I done? But hang on… this just feels right. Yeah.” So, doctors studying psychopaths, it’s really that simple. The years of studying these jackoffs comes down to a little belly feeling. If it starts to hurt, they go into hiding for as long as it hurts and once it feels better, they go out killing. And once they murder another young blonde because they confuse hunger for the need to kill instead of the need to feed… well there you have it. “It just feels right” just like getting the Reese’s Pieces feels right over the Snickers. Good God this is fucked. Sorry folks. Next time you have that urge for frozen yogurt remember that that’s how simple it is for someone to go out murdering. One stomach rumble and wham.

But let’s try to end this a little more wholesome than that. What about the other belly feeling. You know… the butterflies. Not the spastic ones that you get when you’re standing on the edge of a cliff contemplating whether you want to keep living or whatever. I mean the lovely ones. The flutters. I don’t recall the last time I felt them. I think it was like 6 years ago. It didn’t work out, but it’s okay. I’ve realized that I will probably never find the one or the one is gone. Which gives me more time to focus on writing. But I will always live with a broken heart. And I don’t know if work comes out better if you’re in love or if you’re heart broken. I guess we will find out, won’t we?

Have a good day.