Today Was a Mediocre Day
Posted by bobkerolls on Tuesday, March 30, 2010
People often ask me "How was your day?", to which I reply "Shitty.", or "Mediocre.", or "Get to the point, you old fucker." (if it's my mom).
What I never do is tell them I had a good day. That is because when I was a teenager, I thankfully had a good day defined for me by the poet O'Shea Jackson, better known by his nom de plume Ice Cube.
To make sure that I accurately describe my day in these instances, I keep a running diary, then fill out a homemade checklist in the evening. Depending on my results, I know how to accurately respond to everyone's incessant (and honestly, slightly invasive) queries the next day.
So that literate viewers at home can also do this (thus ensuring that the populace grows lightning-like fast and strong like MARK SPITZ), I present to you an example taken from a random day last week.
Ice Cube:
Wakes up, morning is clear and quiet, mom makes him breakfast sans pork, which he eats in moderation. He makes plans with a lady friend and leaves, and drives to the basketball court without being carjacked, surprisingly. [Note: there is some contention on whether Cube ever actually plays basketball on this day. A close examination of the lyrics shows that he called his friends and asked them when they were playing, and then he goes on to say that when he does play he is quite good, using as an example a game from last week (a game in which he kept stats, an odd activity during a pick-up basketball game) when he scored a triple-double (one has to assume points, assists, and rebounds. Even at this early stage of his career, Ice Cube was already exhibiting the squished gnomelike frame that would come to define his later image. It's hard to imagine those sausage fingers and eggplant legs having the agility or explosiveness necessary for 10 steals or 10 blocks).
bobkerolls:
Sleeping
Ice Cube:
Drives home and showers (from basketball? One of life's little mysteries). He manages to do this without being attacked by the denizens of his neighborhood or the police. He then goes to his friend's home (TIMESTAMP - 3:30 PM. We know this because that was the time slot for Yo! MTV Raps prior to its midnight move later in 1992). They gamble and Ice Cube wins money and leaves to go pick up his date. He is pleased that no one has died today.
bobkerolls:
Waking, and trying to determine if the urine smell is coming from my shirt or pants (and why is the odor so fresh?). Lay in bed until the urge to vomit eclipses my desire to stay warm underneath my Pokemon blanket. Sprint for bathroom and almost make it before slipping in yesterday's vomit-puddle. Vomit. Stand up, pee in sink, use finger to scrape the chalky obstruction from my sippy-cup's drinky-hole. Prepare my coffee-grounds-stirred-into-milk breakfast (I have yet to figure out how to make coffee, and only understand the Kool-Aid method) while listening to my Steely Dan/Steve Winwood mashups and watching Yo Gabba Gabba. I watch 12 episodes. They are all reruns.
Ice Cube:
Picks up his date, and they go somewhere to drink, smoke, and watch basketball (TIMESTAMP - 8PM. Two west coast teams). They have sex, and she quickly compliments Ice on his sexual prowess. He takes her home (1AM), drinks some alcohol and makes use of his customizable hydraulic shock absorbers. He reflects on the goodness of his day, especially the lack of harassment and murder. He stops for a burger (2AM) and due to the alcohol (probably), believes the lights on a nearby blimp are sending him messages of encouragement. He drives home drunk, being contacted by friends and well-wishers even at this late hour.
bobkerolls:
Receive 5 phone calls, all from bill collectors. I attempt to ask the female ones out on dates, but am refused. On the next 5, I try the males, and am again refused. Now catatonically depressed, I look for some alcohol to drink but find only empty bottles with cigarette butts inside. I fish the butts out and try to suck the alcohol out of them. It sort of tastes like scotch but mostly tastes like the time I did this exact same thing the day before. I get out my Magic: The Gathering cards to do some imaginary gambling, but luck, she is a fickle mistress, and I lose some money. In keeping with my strict sense of honesty, I burn the $12 I lost to my made-up opponent. I take some of my 'happy pills' (doctor-prescribed placebos, soaked in honey and sprinkled with cocaine). I feel instantly better and spend the next few hours spitting into all the keyholes in my house. This seems a marvelous prank at the time. Pass out at 3AM while watching a rebroadcast of the Lakers beating the Oklahoma City Thunder.
Final tally: Mediocre Day. Now I know what to say tomorrow! Feel free to copy and use this checklist for your own personal use. Send your results to ibetnoonecantopnotbadday@freedonkeyposter.com
What I never do is tell them I had a good day. That is because when I was a teenager, I thankfully had a good day defined for me by the poet O'Shea Jackson, better known by his nom de plume Ice Cube.
To make sure that I accurately describe my day in these instances, I keep a running diary, then fill out a homemade checklist in the evening. Depending on my results, I know how to accurately respond to everyone's incessant (and honestly, slightly invasive) queries the next day.
So that literate viewers at home can also do this (thus ensuring that the populace grows lightning-like fast and strong like MARK SPITZ), I present to you an example taken from a random day last week.
9AM-12PM
Ice Cube:
Wakes up, morning is clear and quiet, mom makes him breakfast sans pork, which he eats in moderation. He makes plans with a lady friend and leaves, and drives to the basketball court without being carjacked, surprisingly. [Note: there is some contention on whether Cube ever actually plays basketball on this day. A close examination of the lyrics shows that he called his friends and asked them when they were playing, and then he goes on to say that when he does play he is quite good, using as an example a game from last week (a game in which he kept stats, an odd activity during a pick-up basketball game) when he scored a triple-double (one has to assume points, assists, and rebounds. Even at this early stage of his career, Ice Cube was already exhibiting the squished gnomelike frame that would come to define his later image. It's hard to imagine those sausage fingers and eggplant legs having the agility or explosiveness necessary for 10 steals or 10 blocks).
bobkerolls:
Sleeping
12PM-6PM
Ice Cube:
Drives home and showers (from basketball? One of life's little mysteries). He manages to do this without being attacked by the denizens of his neighborhood or the police. He then goes to his friend's home (TIMESTAMP - 3:30 PM. We know this because that was the time slot for Yo! MTV Raps prior to its midnight move later in 1992). They gamble and Ice Cube wins money and leaves to go pick up his date. He is pleased that no one has died today.
bobkerolls:
Waking, and trying to determine if the urine smell is coming from my shirt or pants (and why is the odor so fresh?). Lay in bed until the urge to vomit eclipses my desire to stay warm underneath my Pokemon blanket. Sprint for bathroom and almost make it before slipping in yesterday's vomit-puddle. Vomit. Stand up, pee in sink, use finger to scrape the chalky obstruction from my sippy-cup's drinky-hole. Prepare my coffee-grounds-stirred-into-milk breakfast (I have yet to figure out how to make coffee, and only understand the Kool-Aid method) while listening to my Steely Dan/Steve Winwood mashups and watching Yo Gabba Gabba. I watch 12 episodes. They are all reruns.
6PM-3AM
Ice Cube:
Picks up his date, and they go somewhere to drink, smoke, and watch basketball (TIMESTAMP - 8PM. Two west coast teams). They have sex, and she quickly compliments Ice on his sexual prowess. He takes her home (1AM), drinks some alcohol and makes use of his customizable hydraulic shock absorbers. He reflects on the goodness of his day, especially the lack of harassment and murder. He stops for a burger (2AM) and due to the alcohol (probably), believes the lights on a nearby blimp are sending him messages of encouragement. He drives home drunk, being contacted by friends and well-wishers even at this late hour.
bobkerolls:
Receive 5 phone calls, all from bill collectors. I attempt to ask the female ones out on dates, but am refused. On the next 5, I try the males, and am again refused. Now catatonically depressed, I look for some alcohol to drink but find only empty bottles with cigarette butts inside. I fish the butts out and try to suck the alcohol out of them. It sort of tastes like scotch but mostly tastes like the time I did this exact same thing the day before. I get out my Magic: The Gathering cards to do some imaginary gambling, but luck, she is a fickle mistress, and I lose some money. In keeping with my strict sense of honesty, I burn the $12 I lost to my made-up opponent. I take some of my 'happy pills' (doctor-prescribed placebos, soaked in honey and sprinkled with cocaine). I feel instantly better and spend the next few hours spitting into all the keyholes in my house. This seems a marvelous prank at the time. Pass out at 3AM while watching a rebroadcast of the Lakers beating the Oklahoma City Thunder.
Final tally: Mediocre Day. Now I know what to say tomorrow! Feel free to copy and use this checklist for your own personal use. Send your results to ibetnoonecantopnotbadday@freedonkeyposter.com
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