(Un)Interesting

March 4th: the Olympics have come and gone; and although I consider the last 17 days to be some of the best consecutive days of my life, I am left with a tormenting realization. Only with special circumstance am I truly shown the extent of how interesting my life can be. Such a major sporting even entering my city, with millions of people coming to experience it with me is an absolute, once in a lifetime affair. There are only a handful of other episodes in my life which I can even consider on the same level: my two month European adventure, as well as a few of my more hectic birthdays. I question how I can write about such trivial occasions like family dinners, and my thought process, and make them sounds like they're actually interesting. I hate to insult my demographic, one which consists of artists and intellects, but Jesus, how do any of you read this? You have a computer don't you? Look up chatroulette or something, that place is filled with interesting people. The internet was not made for reading, books were, leave that shit for the librarians.

Not only that, but it seems that everywhere I turn there are people having more exciting times than me. Look at the characters in movies, literature, and theatre. Although fictional, they still appear to rub it in my face, and laugh at me for my inadequacy. I find it impossible to appreciate such media outlets when all I can think about is leaving the theatre to go sit on my couch at home. Like, fuck, that's really exciting. If I'm lucky maybe I'll come home and find my house robbed, the only thing missing will be the couch, and I'll be forced to sit on the floor. If that example Isn't good enough for you, listen to some rap. Those guys' lives are extravagant as shit covered in diamonds. A line from Ya Boy's first track: Let Me In, off his new album: Kush 2009, gets me about as riled up as...FFFFFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUUUU-

I was blowin' smoke down this bitches throat,
Nigga, I accidentally blew too hard, nigga, and the bitch swallowed the blunt,
Whats crazy is that when the bitch shit it out it was still lit, nigga,
I told her she was a bad bitch, nigga, and we smoked that mother fucker, nigga,
And it was Kush!

...I'd just like to know why my life isn't inspiring rap lyrics like this. What the fuck do I have to do to obtain such legendary status? It's hard to believe that all these under privileged black people have been selected by the Rap God's to generate classic stories that will reside in the heart of billions. My life needs a jump start. Wait a minute...jump start, hmm. How about this: jumper cables, my nipples, car battery, hmm. That's not actually a bad idea. Wait, fuck!

Tupac Shakur's Changes:

Got love for my brother, but we can never go no where
Unless we share with each other. We gotta start makin' changes.
Learn to see me as a brother 'stead of 2 distant strangers.
And that's how its supposed to be.
How can the Devil take a brother if he's close to me?
I'd love to be back when we played as kids,
Nipples attach to car batteries, buts that just the way it is.

Mother fucking, God damnit, fuck you 2pac and your mother fucker genius. If you weren't already dead, I'd smoke you.

Gah, oh well. I can't complain, life seems pretty alright despite its lack of pizazz. I was lucky enough to be in the host city of possibly the greatest Winter Olympics of all time, and I am grateful for that. Little Mexican children probably saw me on T.V., shitfaced, covered in blood and vomit, chanting my national anthem, tied to the side of a moving car.

Yeah, that was fun.