Welcome back to our monthly comic series, Doofus and Darling. If you had Highlights for Children magazine when you were young, you’ve seen Goofus and Gallant. If not, it probably doesn’t matter anyway.
We are all of us adults here on this site, writers and readers, well-wishers and detractors. This naturally means that we are all well-acquainted with that sluggish beast known as Procrastination. Society views Procrastination as a blight, a rotten spot on anyone’s character. Procrastination is a heavy shame and people want it stamped out. But this is a new day, a new era. Like other old prejudices, the irrational hatred for slacking around still lurks around, but we can’t really be surprised by it. I mean, after all, old-fashioned race-ism still lingers around and that malarkey is so outdated, I mean really.
But I am here to explain how all the haters are hating a painful misconception! AS USUAL.
That’s right. Anyone can make procrastination WORK. You can still be productive while procrastinating, you just need to open your mind and get over the fact that you might not be succeeding in producing the finished product you might have NEEDED to finish. But I think maybe we should reconsider this current lifestyle of “deadlines” and “you have to complete this specific thing I paid you to complete.” It’s all so narrow-minded, and I can’t support that foolish mindset. This is not an article about what I do and do not support though. Oh wait, yes it is. Because:
Your friend has hit a rough spot and, for whatever reason, you have stepped up to aid them in their time of need. When you invite a friend to stay in your home until their lives stabilize, until they stop weeping at night, until they get a job — ANY job — and find a place of their own to live, you may not realize exactly what you are about to do. You may think to yourself, “This man or woman has been my friend for X number of years, I feel fondness for them and would like to give them sanctuary from their troubles. After all, were I in their place, I would hope that I had a good person to help me out.” But you fail to acknowledge that this person will be using your furniture, your bathroom, your cooking utensils. They will be all over your living space. They will probably even look in your bedroom when everyone else is out working.
Basically you’ve gone above and beyond the call of friendship. You may think that because you are being so kind as to do all of this, what with the inconveniencing your life to an extent and shaking up your day-to-day, your friend would be more than happy to do the one or two things you ask of them. No sir.
You see, when you invite a friend to live with you, something happens to them. They change into a monster. Many of you have seen this happen with real room mates, but the complexities of the Room Mate is a topic for another article on another day. Friends who are staying with you as guests do not have to pay rent, or bills. They often feel like real guests, although they start out as overly grateful ones.
In 2001, I landed what I consider to be my first “real job.” I say this because this was the first job I ever had that I would willingly tell people about. Instead of hiding my employment status behind mumbles, I would gladly sit down with you and tell you at great length what my job is, where it is, what I do at it, and a million other details that would cause you to want to punch me if you could just stop feeling so damned happy for me long enough. So after I get the call telling me I have the job, I am given instructions on where to go to do a piss test. Now normally they do these pre-employment, but I was told that the facility this takes place in was under construction and had just re-opened to an extent. “To an extent” was an exact quote from the lady talking to me, just so you know.
I arrive there, wearing some fairly nice clothes. I got the job so I decided I could drop the illusion that I knew how to dress, but I didn’t want to start dressing like a complete scumbag until I was there a few months… so I was in something sorta in between. Like if someone woke you up from a deep sleep and yelled to hurry up because one of your family members just decided to get married on the spot. You wouldn’t have time to put on a suit and tie, but you wouldn’t go in anything that smelled like three days worth of ass. That was the balance I was striving for.
Chances are you are like me and you take a lot of modern conveniences for granted. There isn’t really anything wrong with that, I guess. I mean, here in 2016 [Editor’s note: remember to change the date when we are low on content and re-post this in a year or two] we just assume such things as sanitary products, electronics, and other assorted things are our God-given and rightful property. We feel a great sense of entitlement, and therefore have really stopped appreciating these simple pleasures that keep our world up and running smoothly. It’s just hard for someone who has grown up with such things to understand…
Until you have to do without.
My friends, I had to do without recently. I didn’t have to part ways with my cell phone, or microwavable food items, or anything like that. If that was the case I’d JUST DIE! No, I had to do without something that plays a rather large role in our lives. I had to do without a goddamn shitter: the unsung hero of household items. That’s right, I had to use the toilet without having a toilet to use. You might have trouble wrapping your head around this, because really, the toilet is always there. It’s like a good, dedicated friend. You can always find comfort in its consistency. Cold, white, incredibly heavy but blissfully unaware of just how big it is, and usually full of shit. Now that I think about it, it really is just like a lot of friends I’ve had (and you have probably had as well).
But imagine briefly, that when you need that friend the most, they are nowhere to be found! That when you reach out and expect that helping hand you’ve grown so accustomed to grasping you and pulling you to safety… it doesn’t happen. Of course, I am completely to blame for the incident I am writing about. Looking back I can clearly see where I went wrong.
Often in life you will hear certain phrases that seem to crop up fairly often. Some are pretty common sense, and others take a little more figuring out or the origins are so lost in time that they never will make sense. I’m going to speak of a fairly common one that usually isn’t meant literally.
“You scared the shit out of me.”
Now this comes in several different forms, often pointing out who or what did the scaring, but the end result is the same… the “shit was scared” out of the person. Of course this is never actually true, as the person will just laugh it off and go about their business instead of dropping their head in shame as the smell overcomes the room. I’ve heard this many times from many different people, and none of them had coated their pants in brown.
However, I am here to tell you that on at least one occasion I can confirm that someone was scared to the point of D’ing up those pants. I share this story with you now.
Money is grosser than gross. It is essentially nasty garbage that everybody wants and feels compelled to carry around in their pockets. “Look at that nasty garbage,” people say, “I want it very much. I want to take the nasty garbage with my bare hands, and place it lovingly in the pocket of my pants. Then I will carry around the nasty garbage with me for some time, before exchanging it for goods or services, giving the nasty garbage to someone else who would very much like it. I love you, nasty garbage.” I might be paraphrasing.
After over two decades of experience and exhaustive research, I have concluded that no one should ever touch paper money. Not you, not me, definitely not your children or other loved ones. Not ever, and not even a little bit. Maybe you can let your pets handle your cash, but remember that that’s the same creature that eats its own poops and greets others by sticking its entire face in their assholes.
Why is it that something so coveted by everyone should be so detestable? Why? WHY?! Calm down, psycho, you don’t have to yell. I’ll tell you.
Affable wolfman actor, Jake Gyllenhaal, took a moment from his busy schedule to sit for a portrait in his natural form today. Bitten by a werewolf sometime in the early 2000s, the handsome lycanthrope has allowed his ruff to grow out to exquisite lengths. Mr Gyllenhaal is the most popular were-animal celebrity in the glamorous land of Hollywood.
Several months ago, the United Nations appointed the glossy-coated man-thing, Leonardo DiCaprio, to be an official Messenger of Peace to the world. He will focus his valuable time and energy to requesting that the human inhabitants of his planet, Earth, pay better attention to impending environmental doom. He goes so far to expect that we get off our slack ponies and actually prevent it from happening! You and I might hope that the human race rises to the challenge, but important men such as Mr. DiCaprio, former child star, have the drive and the money to actually make it so.