I'm too busy for you...

Sometimes we'll ask hot child who thinks he's a teenager if he wants to do something, and he'll reply, "No thank you.  I too busy."  Which reminds me how too busy I have been to blog lately.  Which isn't true, but makes me feel better.  I've actually quite a few things to write about, I just haven't.  I want, I could, I'd like to, I just don't.

But, I promise I'll change.  Starting now.  So here's what's going down...

I'm starting school.  Again.  Really, school again?  I swear I quit and start school as much as I quit and start this blog.  Is it coincidence that they seem to happen at the same times?  Probably, but it is kind of easy to write about school.  And as you can see... I am out of things to write about.  Well... it has been like 6 years... how many thoughts can one person have?

I joined LinkedIn, and Windows Live.  I don't really know why this is important.  From what I can gather, both are just like Facebook for people who a. have way too much time to be on their computer and b. want to look professional?  I don't even have a professional looking picture for my profiles on either site, so I guess I won't be recruited my some Wall Street trading firm.  Which sucks, because I'd love to work there.  Maybe I could soften the freefall my 401k has been on the last couple of weeks.  Or at least I would have a good reason to drink myself silly, because just saying my 401k tanked today doesn't seem sufficient in the grand scheme of things.

We're going back to Minnesota!  Yeah, next weekend, for a wedding reception.  Love it.  Beer, food, MINNESOTA.  See, unlike the southern hell that is Louisiana, we love Minnesota.  And most of the people in it.

Where you want to get snowed in when you get
Snowed in, outside its 10 below
Is it day or night, we don't care or know

Actually the last time we went to Minnesota, we didn't see NoFX unfortunately.  We did however see Mason Jennings.  Then I found out he lived in and sung songs about New Orleans.



Now he's dead to me. 

And now I just don't feel like writing anymore...

nick
 

There are no Saints in New Orleans...

Of course.  Why wouldn't the Saints win the Superbowl?   I didn't really care one way or another in terms of actual football, but my pure and true hatred for New Orleans is so well documented, I'm not sure what else I can say about it.  For past references, see here, here, here, here, here and finally here.

Hate.  New.  Orleans. 

Hate.

nick

Gustav(e) is a family name

As we sat in the bar this past Saturday, celebrating the fact that God has once again attempted to clear the cesspool of a city we’ve come to known as New Orleans*, I thought back to the hard time we spent in that God-forsaken hell hole (documented here, here and here. Oh, and here too. Wait, here too.) And I thought about all the horrible people that call it home. And how, similar to someone in an ongoing abusive relationship, they just won’t leave it. They just won’t admit that the city, along with the majority of those in it, has failed. Because chances are, if you live there and/or call it home... you’ve probably failed at life.

The only problem is, we don’t make failing at life a real positive experience. It’s pretty shitty actually. You can’t pay your bills, you don’t have enough to eat, and you live in an oven that is super humid, smells like piss and fills up with sewagey water every three years. You can see why people try so hard to avoid failing at life, and even when they do, try desperately to free themselves from it.

And why do they try to free themselves from failure? Well, because on the flip side of failing, we’ve made succeeding at life look pretty damn good. And guess what, it’s not that hard to do. After all, success is only a dollar and five lucky numbers away, right? Maybe it’s only a hot cup of coffee away. Maybe it’s a misprint on your bank statement that puts a few extra zeros on your account balance.

You don’t ever have to worry about not paying your house payment on time.

Or having enough to eat.

Or drowning. In your attic.


Realistically... once you've failed, it's done. Over. Time to stand up, dust yourself off and head for the exit.





Like this dude:

Have a few (stolen) beers, kick back, let the water rise... and go to your happy place.**

Nick

*Actually, it was hot wife’s birthday

** You're damn right I'm cynical, New Orleans still owes me $20.