If this post makes no sense, is boring, or just ends in the middle of a sentence I apologize. I am tired, new job, 15 hour days tired. New job, long days, no sex since bush...tired. I might be the only guy in America that had one of the first Obama tee-shirts and didn't get laid the night of the election. Lest you think this is going to be another long post on love, love lost, first love, first kiss, or loving the first bj you would be wrong. I am pretty fucking crabby today and bookies wonderful post on billy joel lyrics and being single made me want to cry. It isn't too often I want to cry. But usually every few years it just feels like I could use a good cry. If you think this is going to be a post about how great I am because I am in touch with my feelings and can show emotion, you would be wrong. I am great and I can cry for you if you want me to, but that isn't what I am writing about.
I could write how I am in dire need of love. Not just bumping uglies, temporary, you-said-your-name-was-what, kind of love. But love you feel in the membrane walls of each and every cell in your body. I could write about how I am waiting to be hit by lightning. How nothing short of 'I would jump off a bridge for you' rapture is going to get my attention. But I am too crabby to give a shit about writing something so stirring and thought-provoking.
This started today when I was looking through someone's wedding album. She was beautiful, with the alabaster skin, and hazel eyes like mine. I honestly had a thought of how hot our kids would have been if she hadn't gone and married some boner, in a cheap Men's Wear-house tux. The next feeling I had was pure, evil, envious hate. Now I don't know them from anyone. It is just a wedding book left out in the boardroom for clients to look at. But I was building up quite a dislike for Mr. and Mrs. Jacobson. They looked really happy in the photos, like they really were in love, and I just wanted to write her a letter telling her I saw him getting a bj from the cheeky maid of honor in the men's locker room that day. I didn't even work there then but when I am really crabby sometimes my mind does evil doer things. The lesson for me is when I am crabby, not to look at pictures of happy people. Makes evil chance beat up good chance.
I told you there was no point in this post didn't I? So I will come to my question part. I am really ashamed of myself for feeling that envious and petty. Even if it was for just a few moments. I feel like I have to write her an apology letter for even thinking the things I was...well thinking.
Dear Mrs. Jacobson. I am sorry I thought about writing you a letter telling you how Mr. Jacobson was getting a pre-wedding bj from your cheeky bridesmaid. As far as I know he didn't...but I wasn't there. Yours in another life, Chance.
BTQ...Has there ever been a time when you thought some pretty evil shit? Something you would'nt want to say out loud because it was so petty and mean that it makes you look like a schmuck.
Take a chance and tell me...I won't judge you...mostly.
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