WITH AUDIO NARRATED BY BUD SMITH. BONUS!
—ignoring the huge life mistakes I’ve made by obsessing over the tiny editorial mistakes I’ve made.
—cancelling plans based on the unreasonable fear my cat will be set on fire if I leave the apartment.
—fantasizing about one day moving into your garage, but not the whole garage, just a small section of the garage where I’m not in the way of your Prius or anything.
—angrily head-butting paper towel dispensers at work.
—almost wanting to contact people I think are mad at me but at the same time scared that they might actually forgive me and, like, want to “hang out” sometime. *shudders*
—fantasizing about murdering the downstairs neighbors for loudly singing along to the song “Sweet Caroline,” and also because they’re young/carefree/happy.
—hesitating when putting a dirty knife into a sink full of dirty dishes because I fear I’ll never see it again.
—having to immediately apologize for saying, “Oh, just passing the time till death happens,” whenever someone asks what I’ve been up to.
—figuring out how to strap a bomb to myself that can only detonate when giving someone a fist bump.
—throwing book launch parties where the audience and I literally try launching copies of my book into a garbage can placed at the far end of the room using a Medieval-style catapult contraption.
—wondering if anyone has ever named their kids Bebop and/or Rocksteady, and whether or not that is even legal.
—saying “Great, looking forward to it!” while that high-pitched screaming sound from the movie Election goes off inside my head.
—seeing how long I can use “…but Jake ‘the Snake’ ruined ‘Macho Man’ Randy Savage and Elizabeth’s wedding!” as an excuse to never get married.
—wearing black on the outside ’cause black is how I feel on the inside Internet.
—infiltrating some nondescript inner circle while listening to the music of Inner Circle.
—hoping the kids you parade around in Dead Kennedys infant tees for your amusement/cool parent cred grow up to resent you.
—using fun phrases like “I Can’t Even Stevens starring Shia LaBeouf!” while being crushed by the weight of the world.
—reheating only a sips-worth of coffee and hoping it’ll be enough to temporarily repair my damaged psyche.
—sexually identifying as track 4 off of the Smashing Pumpkins Siamese Dream album and not just because the song is called “Hummer,” you perverted idiot.
—saying “Oh man, this is great!” while thinking: I’m freaking the fuck out!
—contemplating whether it would’ve been easier for Luke Skywalker to become a certified Jedi had he first gotten an MFA degree.
—reminiscing about having once drawn 2-Tone checkers on the straps of my JanSport backpack during my high school SKA/Operation Ivy phase using White-Out Correction Fluid.
—fantasizing about one day living in a tool shed where there are no tools and it’s just me but it’s still called a tool shed.
—self-identifying as that weird neighbor who lives alone, doesn’t seem to have any friends besides cats, and who one day blows his brains out.