Dear Diary: Excerpts from the ramblings of a friggin’ idiot (me).


One day I’ll figure it out.

I say that as if I’m totally in control.  I mean, in one tiny corner of my brain, I’m a fucking genius.  And the other thousand percent of my brain resembles something like Chuck E Cheese on a Saturday.  Fucking sweaty kids with cheese hanging out of their mouths, thirty-year-old animatronic bears playing the banjo, stoners laughing at the word “fart”, it’s all just going haywire in there.

But I’m smart.  At least I think I am.

I wonder how many smart people actually sit back and think to themselves, “I’m smart”.  Is Stephen Hawking just constantly self affirming, like, “fuck yeah.”  If he goes to Chili’s, when the waitress doesn’t recognize him, does he flip out?  The answer. . . is no.

Geniuses don’t eat at Chili’s.

It’s funny how we view “genius”, in that most  IQ tests really only account for logical intelligence, which is theoretically only 1 of the 7 different ways in which intelligence exists.  And we equate success with intelligence, which is really dumb.  There are sooo many morons running around “making it rain” , it makes me want to shoot someone.
But instead, I’m picking up those dollar bills before anyone else does.

 When I picture a bunch of geniuses hanging out together, they’re all on a boat, chuckling and drinking expensive wine,

while meanwhile, I’m driving the boat,  smug, because those idiots are getting sunburned.  Real smart, guys.

So then  I offer them all sunscreen, which I’m selling for 90 dollars an ounce.
And they’re all, “that’s pretty expensive sunscreen”,
and I’m all, “well, we’re about 20 miles from the shore, bro– if NOT being a  leather lobster  with cancer isn’t worth 90 dollars to you, suit yourself”.

Boom. Who’s the genius now?

I was sooo much smarter when I was a kid. Seriously.  Hormones made me a moron. I act like. . . a dude. . .with a vagina. . . and a tendency to cry at dog food commercials.

Sometimes I look in the mirror and think, “You’re faking it. You are not a real grown up”.


And then I drink some alcohol and look at naked people on the internet.  Because I can.


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