About 12 years ago, I started my first day at a new school. I was just sort of lingering around the school yard avoiding the cooties epidemic that had reportedly taken the swing set by storm, and hoping to maybe strike up a conversation with a prospective friend. Just as I was dodging an errant 4 square ball, I heard a little British voice say something like "why don't we ever play soccer?" I liked soccer.
That little British voice turned out to be the voice of my future roomate, Michael.
Fast forward 12 years and I hate his damn guts. Maybe I'm embellishing a smidgen because deep down I guess I really love the little fucker, but man can he be hard on my spirit. When writing this blog, I had to consider him to be the greatest source of my material. There was no debate on whether he would be mentioned at great detail in various blog entries. The real question was "should I base the entire fucking thing on this guy?" And believe me, I could have.
Instead, I've opted to just give you brief installments of Michael from time to time in a feature I will call “Michael: Really? No seriously...what the fuck? ( inspired by my most common response to him). I've never been a fan of introductions or profiles since it's my belief that you'll probably learn it all along the way anyways, and you'll also feel better about yourself having earned it. As the frightening intricacies of Michael's life come flying at your face, your mind will begin to illustrate the master(bating)piece that is Michael.
The other day, I had someone over and for some reason we ended up in Michael's room watching him hard at work. See, Michael is under constant pressure at his job. Inflation is driving the value of gold way up and special professions are valued highly in the workplace. The economy is headed towards a recession in the wake of a brutal and pointless war (no he doesn’t work for the U.S government, good guess though!). Being a member of the Horde has caused undue on stress on Michael in the recent weeks. (What? The Horde?) Oh, did I forget to mention that Michael's job is playing World of Warcraft? I consider him to be an innovator by paying $14.99 plus applicable taxes each month to basically work a 9 to 5 job, except that job is a retarded video game. I'm sure there's been enough WoW hate blogs to clog Amy Winehouse's heroin wounds, so I'm not going to spend my time bashing the game or the people that play it. In moderation, the game is decently entertaining and I just want to make that clear. But C'MON. Seriously. C'mon. Spending 6 hours a day killing wolves over and over again so you can get to a higher level, which just enables you to kill slightly bigger wolves over and over again?
So here we are in Michael's room watching him play this sense numbing mind fuck of a video game and of course Michael is right into it. He’s got the gamer fuel in one hand, and a ridiculously expensive and aerodynamic wireless mouse in the other. (Aside: the amount of sex you have is in direct correlation to how much your mouse looks like the batmobile. [Adam West version...obviously]) While we looked on in quasi embarrassment for both ourselves and him, he felt the need to explain his character to us. So he began on and on about his "druid". At one point, he proudly stated, "My druid can turn into cool things like an owl, or a bear, or a seal!" To which I replied, "You know what would be really awesome? If your druid could turn into a guy that actually leaves his fucking apartment once in a while". What's funnier is that while I was busy apologizing for what I had said, he admittedly sighed, "No, you're right...I deserve that." So clearly he knows damn well that he's wasting his life.
*Cue the Danny Tanner morality speech music*
Why is it that we, as humans, have the ability to see fundamental changes that need to be made within ourselves, yet do not possess the skills to ACTUALLY make them? No matter what your girlfriend says, people can't change. Besides, your girlfriend is a c-word anyways. Break up with her and let's go for hot wings. Sure, people can stop smoking or walk differently (white thug swagger WHUT?), but the most primal constructs of our mind are final. No returns, no exchanges. I've seen people make changes in the short term, and sometimes even successfully for a brief period of time, but in the end you're going to end up like you always were. If you're a girl who cheated on her boyfriend in high school, I can guarantee you're going to be a wife who cheats on her husband in the office bathroom with the ethnic janitor that's always swearing too much. There's nothing you can do to change that. So maybe we should just learn to deal with ourselves and the people around us, and just take them at face value. Believe me, it's the only value there is to be had. We're only as deep as our ability to deceive.
Michael is no different. He knows that he's spiraling downwards into a vacuum of lazy, and he can even recognize that a change needs to be made, yet these changes will never come. Why? Well, because we're fucked as humans. We're animals and animals do what they were programmed to do. Lions are programmed (according to Walt Disney) to kill and eat Wildebeests. If you tried to ask a Lion to "change" and maybe give tofu a try...he would literally claw a gap in your windpipe. Similarly, Michael was hard wired to order pizza, play WoW and take intermittent breaks comprised of jacking off at feverish paces. I say fuck it; you're always one bad day away from shooting yourself in the face anyways. Just do what you wanna do. Don't agree to change when you know you can't and never inconvenience yourself with worrying about making someone else happy. Life is shorter than Gary Coleman's cane so just spend more of it doing all the bad shit you think other people wouldn't approve of and less of it worrying about pleasing people who are secretly doing bad shit you wouldn't approve of.
Michael, your druid is awesome and so are you, buddy.
As always, I continue to urge you to be my friend and read my blog and tell your friends that I’m fun and good for you too.
This is my personal blog, not yours asshole. The opinions expressed here represent my own (and they are extremely funny) and not those of any employer (douchebags or present). I do not regulate or approve reader comments on this blog because I'm an asshole and I'm lazy and I don't give a care. I am not responsible for the content in comments, no matter how shitty they are, other than those made by me, or other online content that I may link to.
Furthermore, if you are Tori Spelling, please feel free to sue me...it will give me an opportunity to meet you in person (in a court of law) thus enabling me to fulfill my life long goal of kicking you straight in the cunt.