Living by myself, and writing this blog, has allowed me to examine closer that relationship that we all must have with ourselves. My son, wise beyond his years, urged me to foster and cultivate a better relationship with myself - perhaps so I would quit pestering the shit out of him all the time.
In that direct effort, and in an effort to be completely honest with myself right from the start, I've written my own "profile" - as if I were dating me online. Do me a favor and see if anything sticks out for you? I don't want to scare me off.
I'm notoriously lazy and I don't like making commitments. Especially to myself. I never hold up my end of the bargain. I drag ass screwing around till the very last minute, and then at the last minute - I stick me with all the work.
I lie to myself compulsively all the time too, about everything - from money, to "joining a gym", to "how-far-I can-throw-a-bellhop".
I get drunk and sleep in late way too often - and then lie to myself about where I was the night before - and who I went home with. The worst is when I promise myself a pony ride at the park, and then don't . Those sad little bloodshot eyes in the mirror just tear my heart out.
Also,when I wake up in the morning, my breath smells like ass.
I wasn't always unreliable. Not till I got nailed right in the left eye with an ice-ball, in kindergarten, by my truly beloved's older brother Doug. - a strapping young lad already at the grand age of 8 - with an arm like a rocket and a dead aim. I've been dumb as a post every since.
I've always been lippy too- always shootin' my mouth off over something that I don't know near enough about.. Just ask anyone who's ever known me........... "Ya gotta knock him out to get him to shut up"....."right between the eyes"???" Nothing short of a coma ever seemed to work.
I brush my teeth with a soup spoon, run my hair with a rake, and I only dress up when I have to - and even then it's sketchy. My water-pistols might be loaded - but my cowboy hat and my wallet are both generally empty from wall-to-wall.
I was indeed "born in a barn".
Finally; I have no chest hair and no significant ambition - not a bit.
If you're anywhere near Moab tonight, stop in at Woody's and I'll sing right at you. In spite of my profile I believe you will find me in possession of at least one or two redeeming virtues.
"Don't take any wooden nickels"