What Are We Gonna Do With All This Trash?: Miscellaneous Miscellany

May 28, 2010

Miscellaneous Miscellany

Oh, adorable smoking baby, will I ever get tired seeing your fat, destined-to-die-soon face? No. I don't think I will ever tire of seeing your chubby-wubby, two-pack-a-day face.

Anyway, lots of things to get to this week.

I watched "Lost" religiously (get it?) for five years, so seriously, I should not have been as upset as I was by the finale. I should have seen it coming. I feel the disappointment of a life-long religious person who just now realizes he's been praying to a fairy tale. That's all I'm saying.
I've been sick all week. First, I think I had either a stomach flu or food poisioning. Plus, I've been having kidney discomfort, AND I have a loose filling in one of my molars. I'm really glad this week is over.
I had this dream the other night (I know, stories about dreams are awful, so I'll keep this brief): I was making out with a lady (this story won't get gross, promise). Anyway, I'm making out with a girl, something else happens, then she says something like "Oh, I hate the term 'doggy style.' I am not a dog!" To which, in my dream, I respond with, "C'mon, baby. Don't take the term so literally. I mean, when we're doing the Missionary position, I don't feed and clothe you just so you'll believe in Jesus Christ." Even in my dreams, I'm hilarious.
I also finished watching the last season of "Deadwood" on DVD this week. I can't recommend that show enough. So great and funny and tense and awesome. Which heralded TV show from last decade should I watch next on DVD: "Battlestar Gallatica" or "The Shield"?

I guess I really didn't have that much to get to after all. That smoking baby was totally worth it, though, right?

Have a great long weekend, everyone.

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A History Of Trash

Trash, at first, was a pretty cool guy. You know, he’d come over with some beers, and you’d hang out and have a couple of laughs. Maybe Trash brought some weed with him, and you guys tried to sync up Dark Side Of The Moon with The Wizard Of Oz until you remembered you lost your VHS copy of that movie sometime in college and that you fucking hate Pink Floyd. Good times were had, nonetheless.

But then, you don’t know what changed, but Trash started to overstay his welcome. He’d just linger for hours, never taking the hint you wanted him to leave, no matter how many times you yawned obnoxiously or mentioned how early you had to get up tomorrow. Trash just didn’t get it. You were getting older. You didn’t have the time anymore to stay up until 3 a.m. to talk about the Port season of “The Wire” or how much you miss Jawbox. Eventually, you just stopped taking Trash’s phone calls and no longer replied to his group e-mails about sneaking into abandoned mental hospitals.

Last time you saw Trash, he was smoking alone outside a local dive bar, looking down at his decaying and mismatched shoes. You hoped he had been doing well. You hoped he had not been hurt by the disintegration of your friendship. And if he had, you wanted to comfort him. You wanted to tell him that even though people move on with their lives, it doesn’t mean they stop caring. You wanted him to see in your eyes a sincere appreciation for the time you shared, because all the relationships in our lives help make us who we are, and even if you weren’t the best of friends anymore, you wanted him to know that there would always be a piece of Trash in your heart.

But instead, you looked away and crossed the street. You were with your new girlfriend, and you really didn’t want to have to explain Trash to her. She’d never understand.