Being 'right' doesn't mean shit and...

It sucks nine times outta ten. Like now, for instance. I was right AGAIN. Guess what showed up? This morning, less than 12 hours after I smart-assedly (is that even a word?) said "Watch. I know what's next..."

Sigh.

Let me try it again...I'm gonna prove God exists and that's he's got a twisted sense of humor.

('Martyr Speech' originally aired 10-12-03. Revised 10-13-03.)

"Expletive delETED!! What's next? Oh...I'll bet I know. Winning the lottery. Whether I play it or not. Has to be. The way my life is going, I expect to win the lottery any day now since I'm so broke I can't even pay attention. Just watch. Oh, yeah. It'll happen."

Now, as for the proof of God's existance...wait and see. This ain't gonna happen and He's gonna be giggling His Eminant Butt off at me. God is very subtle. But, by not making this happen, the way my other prediction did, He's just proving He does exist and that He likes humor. Twisted, sometimes painful humor, but humor all the same.
But, this is good for me, too. He made me. I got my contorted sense of humor right from Him. Which is cool and all, but I still ain't gonna win no freakin' lottery. Watch.

The other way that I'm usually right ain't no better. It always involves Eric and some outside entity or another. Could be a cow. Could be Bill. Could be the weather. Whatever. The way that goes is, Eric will be telling me something about whatever. I'll point out a potential flaw that could bite his ass and he blows it off. He goes out, does the thing the way he wants and comes back later and finishes the story, replete with my ending of how whatever it was didn't work, cooperate or just plain fell apart.
For the first year or so, I really thought I could help him not make the same mistakes by pointing out that I had been correct and that if he had only listened... I stopped doing that beacuse it turned him into 'Robotboy'. All he would do is look down and keep saying "You're right. You're right..." ad infinitum. That got old fast. So, I announced one day that I ain't doin' that no more, because he never hears me until we get to "I said that would happen" and besides Robotboy reminded me too much of the way he was when he was still with the BC and NOTHING is worth that. You'd think he'd be all happy, skipping off to go do cow crap, right? Nah. Not Eric. Now he just tells me "You're right. You're right." when we're first talking about the whatever thing and looks all unplugged the first instant I give him a slightly different perspective on the situation and still does what he wants and usually forgets something important, like covering his ass. Except, now, I skip the "If you had just listened" part. Why bother? I get all the "You're right"s right up front. See what I mean? I can't win. This is just one of the multudinous reasons I named this blog what I did. Fortunately, I have that God-given, twisted, bent, folded, stapled and mutilated sense of humor 99% of the time.

About that other 1%-

I get pissed. Lord, do I get pissed, sometimes. I either talk loudly at about 100mph, mostly stream-of-consciousness, verbalized rage until I get everything said, which could take several minutes or I come in here and type 100mph stream-of-consciousness, written rage until I feel better.
Either way, anybody standing in front of me laughing while I'm raging risks a permanant injury. Like a fist dent in the forehead or something. Being laughed at when you're already pissed can turn rage into a nuclear strike, can't it? Yeah...usually. Until recently, the only exception to that was if, in my rage and verbalization, I said something so patently stupid, even I had to laugh.
But...
Now, there's Greg. After I get done spewing invective all over my keyboard and I go back and re-read what I wrote, I see Greg reading or listening to it with what starts out a small smile and friendly, interested eyes. As I go on ranting, he begins to shake with supressed laughter. The harder he tries not to laugh, the funnier it gets. Finally, after one of my supremely silly proclamations, he loses it and busts out laughing. He laughs until I finally shut up. I look at him laughing his ass off, while I'm still trying to catch my breath, wiping the sweat from my eyes and start laughing my own self. He's great like that. Not laughing at ME, just dyin' with the stupid shit I come out with when I'm spazzing out.
Even if that's not how it would be in person, it works now, on here. But, ya know what? I think it would be like that if I was one of his in-person friends. That's how he comes across, anyway. Compassionate, sweet, protective-even if it's your own self you need protection from-and funny.
Some people, George for instance, can't do that. They get 'infected' from your mood and get in a bad one themselves. Other people, like poor, sweet Eric, don't know what to do, so they don't really do anything during the tirade, but they're there for ya when it's over. Greg would get ya out of the middle of it. And, make ya laugh at your own silly-assed self. (Unless, of course, it was something deadly serious you were pissed about. Then, I think, he'd have your back for whatever came of it...)
Anyway...Thanks, Greg. I like knowing you're one of the people I'm 'talking' to.
Even if ya don't ever actually say anything...lol.
I still hear ya giggling.

Posted by: Stevie at 03:21 PM

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Posted by: Keith at December 05, 2004 11:41 AM (G7XAX)

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