So here’s the thing: Why do most people treat their birthday like some sort of celebration? I see achievements for celebration, or cultural mile stones for celebration, but why the hell do we celebrate the day we were born? We didn’t ask to be born. We didn’t do shit when we were born. If anything the doctors or people who delivered us might celebrate if there were some extenuating circumstances to our birth worth celebrating, like being born in the car on the highway during rush hour traffic, and the father actually delivered you, then he should celebrate your birth not you. Maybe that’s what some parents do for their children, but the majority of people just like the excuse to have people they don’t really like over to their house a few times a year depending on how many curtain climbers they have to run around, gossip and talk shit about the fat kid in the bounce house. Ironic I think. I don’t live in movie, but I wish I did, some people actually think they do, or at least try to create that perception. You might be thinking “You’re over thinking it dude”, and you would be right. Happy birthday. I love you.

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So here’s the thing: You remember being a kid and swimming at the local pool with all your friends while your mom or dad were sunbathing in the pool chairs with a nice buzz coming from the ice chest? Yeah me too. I was one of the kids that could open my eyes under water. Me and my brother used to have little under water tea parties for as long as we could hold our breath. I remember seeing everything under the water, from the tea party with bro, to the heavy peoples legs passing next to my face. It was a fun time for sure! You know what I think about now? All the human piss and shit that must have got in my eyes while they were open having a stupid ass tea party with my brother!!!! Who the hell has a tea party as a young boy anyway?!! My eyes always seem to be blood shot these days as an adult, I’m convinced it’s the human waste that my ocular cavities consumed as a child in the public pool, but then again it could be the marijuana, I mean the marijuana in the air in this city, it’s Colorado ya’ll, legal and shit. I’m hungry. If you like what you read from me, please share it, thank you.

So here’s the thing: I can’t stop laughing at one of one of my friends who is what we call a “Pot Head”. He enjoys the smoking of the weed and I can’t really blame him as I know some people who have bought some nuggs from him from time to time. I said to him the other night “Hey, you got a nugg for my friend? He said “Man, I can’t find my shit” I said “By shit, do you mean weed?” He said “Yeah” I said “How are you a weed guy and can’t find your weed?” He said “I know, right”.  We just went back to work, but he was clearly working with a greater purpose in mind. Eat a dick Cheech and Chong. Sorry, never mind, I love weed, and Cheech and Chong.

So here’s the thing: I cut the shit of my finger tonight at work. I was opening up our patio garage doors when one got stuck. I’m a caveman so I decided I would yank on this thing like….well, I decided to yank on it. When I yanked on it, it broke free, and somehow my right index finger got sliced open at the tip right under the fingernail. The first thing I thought was “Holy shit that’s gonna start bleeding in a couple seconds”, I was right. The second thought I had was “Who can I blame for this? Obviously I’m not blaming myself. I decided to blame a young woman I work with who had closed these patio doors the night before. I won’t say her name to protect her, but it rhymes with “I hate you now” I came to the decision that is was her fault because she put the lock on the left side of the door instead of the right. We always put the lock on the right! Now technically she did her job well and it doesn’t make a difference which side you put the lock, as long as it’s locked, but in this case I cut the fucking meat out of my finger, so it’s different! In case you’re wondering, yes it’s very difficult typing when you can’t use one of your index fingers, dick. I’m, sure she’s losing sleep tonight thinking about how she’s ruined my life, so I’d just like to say to her, “Live free and die hard!” She’s actually a sweet girl. Bitch.