As part of my job, I get daily financial market updates from industry professionals and corporations. These updates mainly focus on forward-moving strategies, which is to say, they attempt to predict the future of different global markets. Anyway, every Monday, I receive the CitiGroup equity strategy newsletter. CitiGroup, in case you were wondering, is dead broke, relies on the government to keep it afloat and currently trades at roughly a buck a share. Nevertheless, they are giving investment advice. This is a little like the street corner bum who lives off Thunderbird and Mad Dog 20/20 relaying advice about what type of wine would best compliment your Chilean Sea Bass. This fucking world, I tell you. No seriously, I tell you. This is me, and I am telling you.
I'm not a big fan of hyperbole, but I truly believe that nothing changes the atmosphere of a block party quite like small arms fire. But I ain't telling you nothing you didn't already know.
I have a friend who might be the youngest Alzheimer sufferer in America. This friend, we'll call him Brad because his friends and family do, after getting piss wasted, still manages to form words but not in any particular order. At one point Saturday night I asked him if he was drunk, to which he replied, "Drunkeness is to popcorn, the way that the rivers run wild." And I couldn't argue with that. Mainly because it was completely unintelligible but whatever. Brad's statement cannot be debated by sentient beings, mainly because any and all sentient human beings would not be sentient if they thought that sentence made sense.
The girl I'm currently dating decided to add pink highlights to her hair. I don't have a joke here. I just feel you need to know this.
I went to a flea market with my buddy Peek this Sunday in St. Petersburg and I have to say that I am shocked that so many people still buy stuff this way. What, with the collapse of the middle-man retail store and the focus on artificially cheap, foreign-made goods, I figured that everyone just got their shit delivered from the internet or purchased clothing in huge retail outlet stores, but no. It turns out that many people still enjoy wandering around huge temporary buildings and perusing useless trinkets on card tables. And that made me feel kind of good in a "some things never change" way. And anyway, I bought a $2 pair of sunglasses and a $1.50 copy of "This Book will Save Your Life" from two separate individuals who viewed morning showers as options. And I think that's America. And fuck you if you have a problem with that, you yuppie internet whore.
Also, here is a conversation that I overheard twice and took part in once at the flea market. I have to believe this is a very popular conversation template at flea markets:
"Maybe I'll buy that neon vest (or giant Rubix Cube or Huge Bull Horns)."
"What for?"
"I have no idea."
The minute you start doubting the strength of this nation, you should realize that my friend Peek has over one hundred bobble head figurines and, even in these rough economic times, is expanding his collection rather than contracting it. Clearly, things aren't as bad as they seem.
I don't care what anyone tells you, week old carrot cake is no substitute for caulk.
One of the weirdest feelings I have ever experienced is a direct result of my buddy Craig. You may remember Craig as the dude who I hadn't seen in more than ten years but who was recently transferred to work in my gym, roughly one thousand miles from where we last saw each other. Anyway, I have gone from having not seen a guy in more than a decade to seeing him every day I work out. Literally, within a couple of days, this old friend went from, "Oh yeah, I remember that dude" to "Evening, Craig. How's the wife?" That kind of serendipity is just trippy.
Barbie recently turned fifty years old. Insert your plastic surgery joke here.
And finally, because logic and fluidity are busy cleaning puke up off the floor, I leave you with the following, which I heard at a block party this weekend:
"I'm just not really comfortable when people other than me have guns at my party, you know?"