Standby for transmission
I’m eating my three year old daughters chewable vitamins. I’m going through sugar withdrawal something fierce and the pantry cupboard, at this present intersection on the time/space continuum, is the dietary version of the Atacama Desert for anything even vaguely sucrose related.
This is as close as I can get to happiness right now. They’re soft… and have a vaguely gummy bearish consistency. Although practically there may be a finite number of these I can pour into my mouth before I start running the serious risk of vacating my bowels (at some point in the not too distant future) in a violent, hot and foamy manner. My sphincter puckers at the probability, a clarion call to perhaps insert a modicum of moderation into my binge eating of these age inappropriate placebos. (I’m one of those people that are skeptical of the benefits associated with imbibing a daily multi-vitamin)
It’s another wild Saturday night in the domicile of the Jo. In olden times this was likely the point where I would (take twenty minutes to) lace up my Doc Martins and maybe find a clean(ish) black t-shirt, with imprinted ironic cajolery, before sallying out in search of girls, of an indie-rock persuasion, with whom to exchange saliva. And maybe trample (or get trampled) in a rousing rendition of Nellie the elephant. Either circumstance would have suited me just fine and would have likely been pencilled in as a win.
Didn’t have to worry about smashing your iPhone back then. Your Nokia 3310 was hard as nails. These days it’s reading Roald Dahl to my daughter and then, post slumbering toddler, halfheartedly perusing Netflix… until giving up and deciding to blog instead. (While your basset hound snores loudly on the sofa next to you)
How the mighty have… reclined. And become more monogamous about the bodily fluids they will impart onto the abdomen of another. Circumstances have certainly progressed. I’m not sure I miss it though. You should likely attack each phase of your existence with a certain level of gusto and then move on. As a rule (for life*) you should never loiter on a level you’ve already cleared, not when there is still so much more game to be played.
*See Jordan Peterson, I can make up arbitrary pronouncements too. Ha ha. Although my book will only have ten rules. I don’t think you should ever have more rules for life than you have fingers (that you can then bunch up into fists). The complete guide to Fundamental Joeyism, available soon. (okay, probably not soon, or even ever)
We now return back to our regular scheduled programming.