Life. We all have questions, concerns and reasonable doubts. These inquisitive curious thoughts I have are common but never certain from one person to another.
I have compiled a “Top 10” list of questions that I have in life. Hopefully some of you can relate. Don’t get it twisted, I believe I know the answers to all of my deranged thoughts. But there’s this strange confused energy within that compels me to share this with all of you.
All I ask is that each and every one of you keep an open mind as you scroll through this list. Also take note I wrote this in 7 minutes at 4:05 am simply for the sake of these thoughts constantly haunting me. I do hope to find answers and some clarity as we take this journey together. Please, If you have some feedback and direction, chime in! We don’t judge around here.
Question # 10:
Why do we “Park” in a “Driveway” and “Drive” on a “Parkway?” This one has been driving (I mean parking) me nuts for years. I will assume it’s just another sad excuse for the morons in charge of properly naming the simple items in life that would make our lives just a bit easier.
How on God’s green earth did the band “Nickelback” ever get a record label to sign them? Probably one of the worst bands to ever assemble lead by a frontman who’s father was a Clydesdale and sings about being a “Rockstar”. Dude, You are a “Rockstar”.
Dumbass. An ugly one but none the less. Please get a permanent case of strep throat. Thank you in advance.
Who let the dogs out? Did we ever figure that one out?
Why is every person employed at a gas station from Bangladesh or Pakistan? I get it. The whole oil thing. Last American I saw working at a gas station had four eyeballs, an elongated neck and a tattoo of his pet hermit crab on his shin. Don’t get me wrong, these employees are the most polite beings on earth. “Hello Sir”. “Thank you sir” “Have a good weekend sir” “Do you need ice sir?” I find it weird Americans never work at gas stations. Maybe they just aren’t friendly enough!
Why do we feel like we just committed murder when a police vehicle pulls up behind us? Most of us have never had so much as a traffic infraction. We begin to sweat. Automatically start looking for our registration which is an impossible task to begin with. We do the whole “10 & 2” driving routine. Never fails. Its always in a school zone. Officers, do you have any idea how hard it is to drive 15MPH? These protectors of the law tailgate so close you can see the frosting residue on their lip from the sack of munchkins they just consumed. Stressful I tell ya. But thank you for all you do in keeping us safe. Much appreciated.
How come every single time we get out of the shower we have to crap? We have every opportunity to take a poo poo before we engage in the cleansing process. Why? Just why? The worst.
To all my fellow white people. Why do we become black when we encounter a black friend? It’s undeniable. Im not referring to the black guy that was pictured next to you in the high school yearbook. I mean the black friend you have history with. You know, the guy you hid behind on the football field. The guy you always threw the ball to on the basketball court. The guy in the gym shower that made you question your manhood. That guy. For some reason when I bump into my friends of color I automatically become black. We do the notorious handshake. I start break dancing and begin using terminology familiar within the black community. It’s truly amazing.
What’s up? What are you doing? Nothing. What are you doing? Nothing. What is this? 98% of all our conversations. So I decided to start being honest. From now on when I receive a call my answer will be as follows. Friend: “What’s up Ant, what are you doing?” Ant: “Not much man. Just scratching my nuts. About to take a dump. Can’t pay my bills. My breath smells like ass crack and I’m contemplating suicide. What’s up
with you?” Honesty is always the best policy.
Why must ordering Chinese food be such a stressful ordeal? I just want some dumplings pal. From the minute you walk in it’s an extreme energetic whirlwind cluster fuck experience. Before you can even review the menu with 1786 items on it, the Chinese woman dressed in a snow suit in the middle of August puts the ordering pressure on. So you unwillingly order house special chow fun and except your fate. The cooks receive the order. They start bickering and screaming at the top of their lungs like they just won a Pai Gow tournament. Then it’s on to the reading material as you wait for your unknown animal ingredient to simmer. You really should be going to the Chinese take out joint to buy a boat or a piece of Real Estate in the Catskills.
Husband: “Hey babe, do you want to grab a bite to eat tonight?” Wife: “Sure hun.” Husband: “Where would you like to eat?” Wife: “Anywhere you want. Doesn’t matter to me.” Husband: “Red Lobster?” Wife: “No, not in the mood for that.” Husband: “Ok. Italian?” Wife: “Nah” Husband: “Sushi?” Wife: “Isn’t that raw?” Husband: “Fuck it. Now its White Castle!” Wife: “Oh that’s good!”
Questions. Answers. Possibilities. Concerns. Life.
Deal with it!