FreeRadikal's blog

Dance the mad dance of frustration. I’m so sick of it. I can feel my frustration permeating into the rest of my job and my relationships here. I just hate being here sometimes. I feel like everything I ask for is like pulling teeth.

Why do I have to remember everything?

Why do I have to ask for everything?

Why do I feel I have to fight just to leave early?

Why do I have to fight through all this BS?

So that guy who broke the speed of sound with his body from jumping off the edge of space back down to earth did it all wrong, I mean sure he is on the world record books but he has no flare, no ‘audace créative’ so to speak. If I did it, I would first take my space jump suit and cover it with specially fitting Ginsu knives.  Then I would have those knives sharpened by astronauts with lasers. And to be completely sure I would then bath the suit in silicone based lubricant to reduce friction…well you guys know what that’s about.

Halo 4 is almost upon us and I as well as everyone else capable of typing is sharing their ‘oh so valued’ opinion (it’s free for a reason) on everything Halo 4. I am so excited it even eclipses my anxiety about death…except dying before the game comes out. I also feel like I am already comparing everything I do to Halo 4 or how much I am glad Halo 4 is more like 3 than Reach. I play B2 and I’m thinking Master Chief would kick Jack’s ass like no bidness, take a mouthful of Spartan laser.

What the middle east needs is to smell what the Rock is cooking? Eggs, he is obviously cooking eggs. I can’t do it; I can’t feign interest when I just want a milkshake. My milkshake is what all the boys in the yard want, I’d teach you but you’ll have to buy me some milk and some cookies and cream frozen yogurt first. I often find myself saying: it’s not that I don’t understand, it’s merely that I don’t care.

 Naked trapped in a concrete bunker. How do I get out? Wrong, how do they get in? My boredom plagues me in my oxygen prone aquarium with no glass just solid gray slabs. I dreamt of a car with carpet rolls for wheels, maybe it was powered by static. It was matted black with some white guy driving it. The car had no doors, it had a windshield. It would flap on by, emitting the sound of carpet being slapped on a wood floor. I dreamt I went back to my college campus for a reunion but no one recognized me, they didn’t even pay attention to me as though I were a blank face in a blank crowd.

It only took me a few days to remember my analogy.  Also I realized that preseason Football is like a presidential debate in that:

Don’t you wish you could eat anything? I want to know how satisfying it would be to eat your neighbor’s house. Where would I start? What’s the best way to eat a house? For me, I think I would start from the ground up. I want to eat Rumor Has It by Adele but it might be too bitter for me.  I figure though once I ate it and pooped it out no one would want to play it anymore. It’s a shame that I get to only drink the coffee and not eat the mug. So what if you get trapped 5 miles underground with your work pals, just eat your way out.