Dude, Where\’92s My Bong?
Last night I had an excuse not to finish that article I’92ve been meaning to post in my err, formal looking blog. My calves were killing me from all that walking inside the mall buying those things for little unfortunate kids. One of them was even audacious enough to ask for a size 10 rubber shoes for chrismas. He’92s 10, barely 4 feet tall and he’92s got that shoe size? Doh.
I’92ve done a lot of research for my topic, but the more I read about it, the more I’92m convinced that we should all just drink that kool aid and be done with it. I don’92t know if I’92m just too ill-informed about the entry I’92m supposed to write or if I’92m just plain lazy. Seriously, I think I have the lazy gene. Some folks are said to have that criminal gene– those born with the extra X chromosome — so why not a lazy gene?
I still remember my mom (God rest her soul) telling me when I was small that I should strive to be like my dad, who’92s always making himself busy trying to find stuff to do around the house when he’92s not in the office. I took what she said to heart so I studied really hard* to ensure that I get good grades, have a great job, earn good money so I can hire someone just like my dad who would do the things my dad used to do around my house. This is crucial. How else would I be able to just netsurf my weekends away while sipping ice-cold tea if I have to worry about those little things? Dang, I’92m out of tea, wait ’97 ’93BEBENG!! MORE TEA!!’94
As I was saying, I’92ve been struggling real hard to combat this laziness all my life. I’92ve even cultivated enough guilt to force myself to be like those industrious guys. But these past years, I’92ve expelled that virus in my system and decided to embrace my inner sloth. The philosophy now is that there will always be people who are naturally industrious and there are those who are only too happy to let them do their thing.
While stacking and packing boxes of stuff, sweat tracing the angle of her cheekbones (really sexy thing to see) the SO would check if I still have my prescription iced tea and didn’92t even bother to ask me for help. She knows I’92d happily turn-over my considerably empty wallet, climb the highest mountains in my mind, or slash somebody else’92s wrist for her. She also knows that to ask me to help her with her manual stuff would strain the harmonious melody of our relationship. Nyaha! That’92s why I love her to bits.
*the night before exams I go into a note-photocopying frenzy and speed cram coz, you know there’92s no tomorrow
ooOoo
How come I’92ve only heard of Typecast (that pinoy band) now? If not for my crazy unemployed brother I wouldn’92t have known that they exist. I really should get over my infatuation with The Ataris. I’92ll check out their entire body of work and post something about them. That is, if I’92m not too lazy to do so.
