This is Day 12 of my work marathon, and I’d say I’m operating at about 80% capacity. I’m sometimes finding it difficult to pull up the right words while talking. I say things like, “Tomorrow everyone needs to wear business casual, which means no…” “Jeans?” somebody offers. “Yeah, jeans!” I answer, as everyone exchanges holy shit glances.
And people need to try to solve their own goddamn problems. I want to holler, “How long have you worked here?!” roughly 25 times per shift.
But if I can just make it to Sunday, when my regular crew returns, I’ll be home free. The next few days will be the test. Well, not a test: I’ll power through it. There’s no question I’ll make it, I just need to get these next few days in the rearview. My team is the freaking Delta Force, and it’s not as easy when they’re gone.
I didn’t update yesterday, and this one is going to be an abbreviated little turdlet, too. I apologize. But I’m gonna have to hit you with a Question now, and sign-off. Day 12 beckons.
In the comments section, please tell us what you’d say to the 15 year old you, if you could travel back in time and spend about 10 minutes with the 9th grade version of yourself.
I’d say, “Listen man… you’re worrying about all the wrong things. Oh, you should be worrying. Make no mistake about it. But not about all that stupid crap that’s in your brain right now. I can write out an itemized list, if you’d like. Also, cut your hair. You look like hell. And take more showers. Jesus!”
What would you say? Please tell us about it in the comments. And hopefully I’ll see you guys again tomorrow.
Have a great day!
Now playing in the bunker
Try Dropbox! It’s free and fantastic.
You can smoke weed until you are about 20. After that. here’s a list of dates that you’ll be given piss tests.
College is bullshit, nobody cares. Get the easiest degree that isn’t Arts.
Buy a fuck ton of gold before 2004.
Never try to fart into someone else’s butthole.
Invent Facebook. Do nothing with it.
Fuck everyone you can; have no relationship that lasts longer than 3 months.
Go to DLI for German, fail out once and rock out into a spanish course. Stay in Monterey as long as possible.
Don’t buy that house, it’s bullshit. Just wait a few years and build one.
You’ll need to do all that to get to here:
Buy that megamillions ticket I just handed you, before the drawing date.
I passed the DLAB with a 128! They wanted me to do a level 4 language, probably Farsi…. I went for MP training. 5+ months in lovely Fort Lost in the Woods misery instead of 2 years in Monterrey. I’m a damn idiot!
After you leave, you can go back home, but it’ll never be the same as right now.
Long distance relationships are almost impossible to maintain, especially if you are under 30. Not much better over 30 either.
In college, have rampant sex with the hot blonde you stayed up with all night.
Mother has her own agenda, and you want no part of it. Avoid.
Get your rider’s license sooner, but still go for a Harley so you don’t kill yourself. All drivers *are* trying to kill you when you ride.
Don’t sweat the details too much, no one else knows what the hell they are doing either.
ALWAYS trust your intuition; it knows more than you do.
To my 25 year old self (and this was a no-brainer):
You know those nerdy guys you are crushing on? Especially the one with the great ass?
Fuck social circles and pursue that shit. It will make their high school life MUCH more enjoyable, at least!
To 15 year old Clint….You are going to marry when you are 28. The marriage will last 4 months. 10 years after you be in a junkyard looking for parts for a car you are rebuilding. Don’t look look in the glove comparent of the white Chevrolet Caprice, for inside you will find a huge stack of Polaroids of your beloved ex-wife and what she was doing during thatl 4 months of less than blissful marriage. Seriously, I had to rotate some of them 360 degrees to tell which angle they were taken from.
And Clint, when you find those pictures, do the right thing and return them to her. The look on her face will be priceless. And when she aks, “WHERE DID YOU GET THESE?” Just smile and tell her you found them in the glove box of a 1966 Chevy Caprice at a junkyard. Priceless!!!!!
Do not…. are you listening?…do not let Dad get rid of my ’55 Pontiac. He’s gonna get rid of it after you go on the road. Take the keys. Take the title. Whatever it takes. Don’t let that happen.
There’s going to be this thing called Disco come up in the early/mid ’70s. Don’t freak out. There will be plenty of work. The horn parts are top notch, a blast to play and the money is good too. And also…pay no attention to “Lite” beer.
…and the Cubs still haven’t won the World Series.
Get over yourself.
Don’t assume everyone is as good at something as you are – use the shit out of your talents.
Speaking of which – that body you have should be celebrated, because it doesn’t last forever.
Take more pictures.
Jeff,
I thought you should know something about “fart incontinence” and airplane travel.
http://cnews.canoe.ca/CNEWS/WeirdNews/2013/02/16/20584346.html
Tell your dad to fuck off and go for that degree in Nuclear Engineering…
Those kids who don’t like you at school will have depressingly pointless lives one day
AND
Be nicer to that guy you just met – he will still be the love of your life 20 years later.