A great piece to start the new year that fits appropriately with anyone looking to make some improvements, not just the graduates for whom it was intended. Hopefully I'll be posting once or twice a night, at least that is the goal in the '03.
You’ll make a good mid-level employee to some son-of-a-bitch boss and a good husband to some woman who wants to take over where your mother left off. You’ll live by the clock and the calendar, waiting all year long for those two weeks at the end of August when you can take that vacation to Europe you’ve always dreamed about, but at the last minute you’ll decide to stay home and paint the house instead.
You may have other dreams, too. Maybe you want to be a champion skier and marry a fashion model. Could be you have plans on being a millionaire by age thirty. And of course, you’re going to leave the loser town you grew up in and live on the friggin’ coast and surf every morning and evening.
But, if you’re like most people, you’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be, I don’t know, 35 or 40 and you won’t have done any of that stuff. You’ll be in the same old town, waking up to the alarm clock, looking frantically for the symbol of your slave-like existence, the watch, and hurrying to your job as one of 35 vice presidents at Bingamton Savings and Loan. You didn’t marry a model, but a girl that really, really, reminds you of your mother, and come to think of it, nags you the same way. She’ll soon start dressing like her, too, and the transition will be complete. You’d best be a good son.
You used to work out, but you gave that up long ago. Your wife thought it was a waste of time. Besides, she lies and tells you that your potbelly "looks cute." Sure, guys with potbellies have always gotten the chicks. Besides, with the birth of Jason and Crystal, your two kids with trendy names, you don’t have time to work out. Most of your time is spent ferrying them back and forth between soccer practice and horseback riding lessons.
Don’t worry, though. You’ll be dead soon.
You’ll make a good mid-level employee to some son-of-a-bitch boss and a good husband to some woman who wants to take over where your mother left off. You’ll live by the clock and the calendar, waiting all year long for those two weeks at the end of August when you can take that vacation to Europe you’ve always dreamed about, but at the last minute you’ll decide to stay home and paint the house instead.
You may have other dreams, too. Maybe you want to be a champion skier and marry a fashion model. Could be you have plans on being a millionaire by age thirty. And of course, you’re going to leave the loser town you grew up in and live on the friggin’ coast and surf every morning and evening.
But, if you’re like most people, you’ll wake up one morning and you’ll be, I don’t know, 35 or 40 and you won’t have done any of that stuff. You’ll be in the same old town, waking up to the alarm clock, looking frantically for the symbol of your slave-like existence, the watch, and hurrying to your job as one of 35 vice presidents at Bingamton Savings and Loan. You didn’t marry a model, but a girl that really, really, reminds you of your mother, and come to think of it, nags you the same way. She’ll soon start dressing like her, too, and the transition will be complete. You’d best be a good son.
You used to work out, but you gave that up long ago. Your wife thought it was a waste of time. Besides, she lies and tells you that your potbelly "looks cute." Sure, guys with potbellies have always gotten the chicks. Besides, with the birth of Jason and Crystal, your two kids with trendy names, you don’t have time to work out. Most of your time is spent ferrying them back and forth between soccer practice and horseback riding lessons.
Don’t worry, though. You’ll be dead soon.
posted by Champion at 9:31 PM
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