If You Call That A Life

28 09 2010

My name is Isiah, I was born of a good and common people. A people that live by the land – farm, gather, and hunt – only as we need and no more. We are men of valor, and true men are fueled by the idea of leisure. To reach the pinnacle and have nothing else to do but relax, to breathe. We men find our leisure in the backyards of our fellow brethren. The grill hot, burgers seared and natty light crowding the fridge, with a safety pack of cigs in the car.

I was making coffee the other day in the office and had just finished explaining my weekend of leisure to my buddy when one of my coworkers – a young lady that I’m pretty sure has a crush on me – cocked her head, looked at me in a stern, mothering kind of way; you know, like a sexy mother that just wants to nurse you all night kinda way, and she exclaimed, “Wow, that’s some kind of life.”

I looked at her loving eyes and I said, “Thank you, I know. It’s ah… pretty awesome.” Dangled a nut and tried to kiss her, only to have her then commence to explain, with her hate face, that she was being facetious and breakdown how I had a very sad life. I said, “What the fuck?! I invite you to my nephew’s bat-mitzvah, you gotta be fucking kidding me…” Then she explained that I never invited her to a bat-mitzvah and that she wouldn’t go if invited. (I remembered I don’t have any siblings.) I called her a “racist!” She questioned if jewish is really a race, “I mean, I’m not sure… I think it is…” Then I yelled, “Nazi!” And, she left.

Later that day, she was explaining her weekend full of hiking and a Saturday night at the Getty to this guy with a dumb face, I ran in swiftly, looked her stern in the eyes and hit her where it hurts, “You call that a fucking life?!” I ran away after that so that I’d have the last word, but I’m sure to this day that she’s still reeling from the verbal ass-kicking I dealt out that day.




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