Monday #2 — LOL, not That #2 but OTHER WTFs!

This is — despite it being not yet 11a.m. — my #2 post of the day! It was going to be my first until I remembered it was the day on which Rimbaud died. Thus, my first post. [You can read my “I MISS RIMBAUD” entry by clicking HERE.] But now, here is my meant to be first post made number two. And, frankly, it is mostly just little pieces of shit about WTF is going on in the world? Really.

  • WTF? WHAT’S A WHAT THE FUCK AMONGST FRIENDS . . .

So, last night my friend — and I hasten to add that when I say “friend” in this instance I mean NOT JUST imaginary or someone I know only through Twitter, but, in fact, someone with whom I have actually INTERACTED IN PERSON, yep, there are one or two left — JaMan, Tweeted the following:

You just have to wonder sometimes, seriously, just wonder …

To which I replied:

It is, in fact, my life’s work. Its mystery. My burden. My mantra – if I believed in anything and had one — would be “WTF”?

To which he replied:

My day is not complete unless I utter that very phrase at least 5 times a day.

Exactly. As in …

  • WTF? TOO MANY COOKS. Huh?

Obviously my sense of humor is off-trend, because I was utterly flabbergasted that this 11+ minute AdultSwim joke (?) has gone viral. 1) It’s funny for about 30 seconds. 2) I do NOT believe that most people in this day and age watch 11 minutes of ANYTHING, so, I suspect, most people who click on it do NOT last through the whole thing. 3) I did watch the whole thing which resulted in me slapping myself silly for being such a WTF idiot. I am not linking because I do not want to risk any of my followers (I know you’re saying, “WTF – like I actually follow you.”) wasting 11 minutes of their lives. Don’t.

  • WTF? GRUMPY CAT’S WORST CHRISTMAS. Really?

I am famously (I know you’re saying, “Famously? You mean you’ve conflated your delusions of grandeur that you actually have followers into fame now?”) a dog person. Which is my Love and Light way of saying, I am NOT a cat person. So, the whole remaining silent while otherwise sane and charming people do the whole posting pictures of cute kitty thing is something that just proves how I am growing as a human being, in that, when these cat pics come my way, I smile (albeit, condescendingly) and say nothing. But whatever this Grumpy Cat bullshit is — and I had never heard of it (see how I can selectively ignore memes and trends? – that makes me a grown-up, right?) until my Twitter TL started being flooded by people mentioning the coming Lifetime attraction (yeah, Lifetime, which, right away tells you all you need to know) Grumpy Cat’s Worst Christmas Ever. Yes, I AM going to share this because … well, WTF?

  • WTF? SERIAL?

And so there is also a new podcast called Serial about which everyone (and by “everyone” I mean the cool kids in my Twitter-feed) has started Tweeting. It’s a spinoff of This American Life and it’s apparently a true-crime-real-life sort of thing about a 1999 murder. Here’s a link to an article about it in The Atlantic: Is It Wrong to be Hooked on Serial? I’m NOT yet hooked because I have NOT yet listened. I am afraid. I already waste too much time on things on-line and have thus far in my life resisted podcasts. I do not even HAVE a pod. So … WTF, I’ve got the site bookmarked [CLICK HERE CUZ HERE IT IS] and am going to — I know myself — get addicted any day because, you know, the cool kids are.

  • WTF? GYM-BOYS …holy wtf, I know the boy who belongs to that ass …

Here’s the thing about me and going to the gym … I am famously (I know you are saying, “What, with the famous shit again?”) ready to end my long and rather unproductive run on this earth, so, why do I eat healthy, stop smoking and drinking, and go almost daily to the gym? Well, because I have faced facts: I never get what I want, EVER, so an early death is unlikely to happen — I will, in fact, probably live to be one hundred, and so, I would like to remain as mobile as possible — because, ANOTHER IN FACT, I have no retirement, no employable skills, no savings, no income, nothing to sell, and will almost certainly end up living in a box on the street or under an overpass — I would like to be able to run from the police and others in pursuit of me when I am homeless. Thus, I take care of myself now.

BUT (and this is about to be about a BUTT) in order to MAKE myself go to the gym — because I am NO MORE A FAN of exercise than I am of cats — I have to amuse myself by ogling the more attractive fellows there. I wear a hood so no one can see me looking. LOL. Anyway, yesterday, there was a sort of phenomenal ass and pair of legs tightly, lovingly wrapped in gray shorts, displayed while treadmilling two rows away from me, back-lit by the window, just really, really kept me from thinking about how much longer I had on the elliptical before I could head to the sauna. Really nice ass. REALLY NICE.

Winter Boys

Wouldn’t you know, when that ass turned around — it was someone I know — not in the biblical sense nor even the friend sense, but, rather, someone I have known because I know his father sort of way — as in, an eighteen/nineteen year old I’ve known since he was not eighteen/nineteen with a fucking rocking ass.

Ugh. Hey Universe, life is confusing and full of enough WTF — do NOT make me all throwback-Catholic-priesty-guilty by parading the delicious ass of an eighteen year old in front of me and making it someone I know.

Calling Rimbaud. Time to go be shocking. Time to go be … who am I kidding, dull as shit. And to the gym — where — WTF! — because of yesterday’s inappropriate ass-lust, I won’t even be able to look at the attractive fellows passing by.

WTF?

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