November 18, 2015 by sandwichcontrol
Told from the perspective of a chair.
“Help! Help! He’s got his fat ass on me again and he won’t get up! He’s been here nearly all day! Help!”
I rested yesterday.
This is the most boring post ever.
And I’m not even remotely sorry.
I read the rest of “Hector and the Search For Happiness”. I finished it around 1pm. My copy of the “The 5 Love Languages”, the book my team of shrinks recommended, didn’t arrive until nearly 4.
So, I watched the first episode of three of “The Casual Vacancy”. You know, that book that J.K. Rowling wrote that was incredibly terrible so that you’d take her off of the pedestal of Harry Potter, while subsequently and secretly releasing the first of the Cormoran Strike mystery novels under the guise of Robert Galbraith? Yeah, that one. If you were lucky enough to not read it the day it came out, or since then, don’t. Just watch the BBC One adaptation of it (which also aired in the states on HBO).
So far, it is a million times less terrible than the book. Which doesn’t make it good. It just makes it less terrible.
The problem with it, is that there isn’t a single lovable character in the whole book. You hate everyone. And where’s the fun in that?
In the Strike novels, you fucking hate Matthew, but since there are so many other lovable characters, you enjoy hating that, as Janie J. put it, “twat-faced little bitch”.
Not so much in “Casual Vacancy”. You just hate everyone.
Which is like everyday life for me. Books are supposed to be my escape from everyday life.
Whoa, that went somewhere unexpected.
I’m feeling better today and am going to attempt to workout. Then, I’m having coffee with the Blacksmith to discuss t-shirts and whatnot. After that, I’ll hopefully be getting my company car so that I can take my truck in to the shop because, of course, it has quickly become busted. Busted to the point of nearing dangerous to myself and other people. Yay!
I’m so close to unlocking the “Danger To One’s Self and Others” achievement.
And just what I needed right now, to pay for my truck being busted. It’s not like I’m starting psychotherapy right before Grismas or anything. Oh. Wait.
It’ll be fine.
I’m not worried about it. If the truck is royally fucked, then I’ll park it until I can afford to have it fixed or I’ll just douse it with kerosene, light it up, and set it adrift at sea. And by sea, I mean the Walmart* parking lot.
Yeah, on that note, I’m gonna go do all the push-ups.
See ya’ tomorrow.
More soon. ~SC
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