Procrastination On A Deadline Weekend
I’m sick as fuck right now.
I’m pretty sure my sinuses are bleeding to death. That my synapses are over routing and that my body is quickly deteriorating and falling apart. I HAVE A VICIOUS MAN COLD. And on Tuesday of all days! So what was I to do? I have to please my babies, but I can’t just phone it in. I mean, I have a shitload of prewritten stuff that I was gonna put up, but frankly it sucks.
So what did this little asian-italian boy to do?! He salvaged some juicy bits from his old blog from his highschool WONDER YEARS. While the typical topics were golden nuggets like “CREED ROX!!! 6FT FROM TEH EDGE IS THE BEST SONG EVR BONNNNER!” and “I REALLY LIKE NAPOLEON DYNAMITE!!!!!!1” I was actually able to find one essay that was… dare I say, somewhat acceptable?!
First this little tidbit from the old blog, which I find to be both elegant and informative:
War Is AWESOME: *SUCKS YOUR DICK OUT OF FRUSTRATION*
danlukesasian: hahahah
danlukesasian: That would be awesome to see in real life.
War Is AWESOME: haha
War Is AWESOME: just some chick gets all pissed off and performs oral sex
danlukesasian: “WELL MAYBE IF YOU FUCKING PAID MORE ATTENTION TO ME RICHARD”“FUCK YOU JA–I UH-WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU. OH GOD, NOT IN FRONT OF THE CHILLREN”
War Is AWESOME: hahaha
War Is AWESOME: and hes like punching her downwards as she has his cock in her mouth
danlukesasian: Hahhahahah
War Is AWESOME: ‘GET… GET OFF ME.’
But enough of this dastardly foreplay! On to teenage angst essay! Look, it’s Dan Luke as a disillusioned, bi-polar teenager!
“We need to find courage, overcome,
inaction is a weapon of mass destruction”
Life could probably be described as a series of pointless montages. At least thats what I think.
Set the introductory scene as a usual day at school. Its my botany class room, its snowy outside, and i’m in one of my ‘moods’ again.
This chick in front of me confirms that, “Christ Dan, you’re always so moody,” she says to me. This coming off the heels of an intense argument I had with my botany teacher over our local food drive. I claimed that the Mexican’s were stealing all of it. Either that or some sort of blood thirsty mexican pandas.
But I agree with her, sometimes I think I have the schizophrenia’s or something. But those thoughts only lasts about thirty seconds, then I’m usually thinking about something more interesting, like sex with TELEMUNDO GIRLS or something… Man, I love me my Telemundo girls.
But no Telemundo girls today today, today I’m thinking about college.
And I should be drafting an essay right now, my essay for U of I, or Columbia, since all of this shit is due in five days. I should be thinking about what applications i’m going to get out of the way, and i’m even praying: “Dear God, Please help me find the power to make myself get off my lazy ass and put together a good essay so I can get educated and get a nice job and live in a nice suburban house and have a fatass obnoxious white wife who cooks me eggs and nags me about how I’m always so cynical. Also, please get me laid.”
And its funny, I’m praying for reality, when I’m really dreaming of fantasy.
I want to be a rockstar, I want to be a poet, I want to be a porn star, I want to sleep and eat and fuck and sleep and eat and have money and be happy. Most of all, I think I want to be 100% Materialistic, with big fake plastic smiles that you see on board game covers.
And lost in all of this prayer and self loathing, I waste fifteen minutes where I could have been doing something.
Fast forward to after school. Now I’m really going to settle down and write, now is my time to sit down and hammer out the results, its time to make my future shine! But instead I take a luscious nap. I wake up at 6:00, and I sit down and hammer out about 300 words or so for one essay, and I think about writing more, but then opt to go out with some friends instead.
So I end up at this Steak and Shake in the middle of Fox Valley with Evan, Amy, and this other kid named Eric. And there is this piece of toast of a waiter that we have, a chick who has clocked in some serious hours at the tanning salon to the point where her skin is both inhuman and ungodly, but shes bubbly and fakely nice and I always like that. In fact, in that reguard, she is just like the Telemundo girls.
So we sit down and order, and I think this chick might be into me, I’m not sure, but just to check I keep asking Amy which way to wear my hat and which way is the most attractive.
“To the side?” I ask.
And she smiles.
“How about front, but a little off center?”
And she smiles.
“Slightly diagonally, yet obtuse, at a perfect 167′ angle?”
And she smiles.
“Should I go Gangster? Or Skater Casual? Is there a way to wear my hat to make me look gay? Like… A modern homosexual hat style that I am not yet enlightened to? Chicks dig maneaters.”
And she smiles. And I’m starting to think she might be autistic.
“Fuck, how about backwards?”
And she nods.
And just as soon as this is over, I start drowning in my thoughts again… Because here I am at 10:00 at night, forty minutes away from home obsessing on the style of wearing my hat… and I could have been doing something.
And she comes back and I get this great idea. I tell Evan to leave this chick my number, so, in between swabs of chili cheese fries and strenuous giggles he scribbles on a napkin:
TO MARYLIN.
DAN (630)444-3456
CALL ME
So we wrap the tip money in this chili covered napkin with my number on it and I don’t want to be embarrassed so I head outside while they pay the tab. And Periodically, between paces on the pavement I peer in the window as they wait for Marylin to go pick up this piece of paper.
And I’m thinking, “Here I am out at steak in shake, hitting on this crispy fried chicken skin of a waiter who is probably twenty or so, in the ridiculous sheep skinned white fur coat and I should be drafting my college letter so I don’t have to join the army and get my head shaved and get verbally harassed and demeaned by a Sargent that’ll ask me ‘HOW TALL ARE YOU SON’ and then I’ll say ‘Five, nine sir,’ and then he’ll go ‘I DIDN’T KNOW THEY STACKED SHIT THAT HIGH.’ And I’ll say, ‘Hey thats from Fullmetal Jacket,” and he’ll probably do a drill seargent bitchslap or something and make me do pushups while saying ‘I’m a pretty little fairy boy,’ or something mean like that for talking back and not saying sir and then he’ll make me his girlfriend and I’ll have to indulge him in his butthole pleasures,” and then my mind shuts the fuck up, because I peer out again and see Evan, Amy, and Eric laughing hysterically.
And for a second my mind is at ease, and I smile back at them.
A few minutes pass and they come outside, and Evan looks at me and goes “Dude, you’re so in.”
And I start laughing, because here I am at Steak and Shake and I just gave my number to some random chick when I really could have been doing something.
But really, who the fuck cares?
Life’ll happen, it’ll be ridiculous, and I’ll live it. I can’t worry about the stress. Everything’ll be fine and I’ll enjoy myself. And then I’ll get hit by a car.
Filed under: Personal Entry, Season 1