It's Called Gratitude...

...and that's right!

Man, I'm weighed down by about 120 pounds of gratitude this morning. I should be regretful. Maybe sorrowful. Hmmm. I should feel like the loser king of the world. I should feel at least tired and hungover, but nothing.

So, Hugh? Did you lose your soul last night? Did you sprain your conscience last night? Did you leave your heart at the bar with your credit card? Are you just a terminally tortured soul? Are you Charlie Brown with a sense of humor? You fucking sad clown. (Thanks Pappy.)

None of that. I'm seriously the most fortunate fucker in this area code at the moment. I'll explain it all in a second, but first must address the fact that I could watch a genocide on closed circuit television and be less disturbed than watching fat people at a buffet. I have fucking issues, I know.

So, rolled in to work this morning at ten. I'm currently not wearing shoes and feel naively positive to the point that I'm waiting for a ninja to jump out of my drawer and jam a shuriken (ninja star) in my eye. It's one of those days. I woke up this morning and walked downtown. It takes 45 minutes. I never knew that before, but it's about 15 to 20 minutes too long for work shoes. We know that now.

Got downtown and texted a personal savior from last night and asked if she would like me to bring her coffee after I had missed her text about picking me up this morning. There is a New Pornographers lyric that goes like this "Two sips from the cup of human kindness/ and I'm shitfaced. Just laid to waste." Speaks volumes right now. Great song, though.

Knowing that you're stupid is the gateway drug to actually being stupid. Everyone is aware of that, but fuck, man. You've got to take the gloves off every once in a while to experience anything. You can experience life in your own emotional shark cage, but the shark bite is what makes life worth living, right?

Experiencing life will give you cramps and blisters, but at the end of the day, it's so worth it. Again, if you are in the back of a cop car with vomit in your lap, this does not apply. It's like an 80% rule. Like "Oh my god. I'm so fuckin' wasted...and I'll be your captain today as we fly into O'hare. It's noon local time and if you look out the window you should be able to see..." Not one of those moments either.

Oh, so before I woke up and right before I got to bed. A beautiful girl in an SLK saved my life as I was ready to sleep on someone's lawn lost deep in the bowels of the city that I live in. Fuck, that would have sucked much worse than my headache right now. Anyway, I think I told her this last night, but if not, she reads this sometimes, but I had kind of written her off in a respectful way last week due to a mental malfunction via Vicodin and massive amounts of booze.

It was for her sake not mine. I just didn't feel like she should waste her time with a wretch like me. Seriously, I have self-love issues. If you would like to join that club, send me a self-addressed stamped envelope and I will send you a signed document that states "Yes, I cannot foster relationships because I hate myself and self-destruct on a whim" and I'll send it to you. It's in the mail, Pinch.

Now, just prior to getting the ride from a saint in the church of Jauge, I was singing my ass off at karoke and drinking club sodas, but at some point threw the gloves off in the spirit of "Fuck It" the way I do. I'd be better off staying at home, but I get restless. The nail in my coffin in the last month, however, is that I've pretty much stopped eating. I seriously question whether I have an eating disorder or not. It makes no sense. Three years ago I was a fat fuck who could barely see his dick when he peed.

By the way, dudes, if this happens to you, don't even check the BMI scale. You are obese if this happens...and gross. You are a disservice to the opposite gender and if you do have a girlfriend or wife, get her pregnant before you start balding and she can leave you. You are fortunate and don't forget it and don't lick the whip cream off the stripper at the bachelor party. Obesely worship that person that sucks it up and sleeps with your fat ass every night or at least twice a week.

If your wife or girlfriend is overweight or just fat, then fuck it, go to Cheesecake Factory and eat some gigantuge portion of shit you shouldn't be eating and then go home and eat a bag of Doritos. If you're fat and she's fat, then fuck it. Put on sweat pants because you both have given up and are in the waiting room for heart disease and diabetes. This coming from a smoker, too.

Anyway, I've lost the enjoyment of food. Perhaps, someday I will find that person who enjoys going to a nice dinner or staying in and wrecking a Bon Appetit recipe, but for now, there is no enjoyment in culinary conquests because when I get done making something just fucking awesome, I'm the only one to enjoy it and I don't even like food, right?

I'm whining, whatevs. I'm not eating currently is the thing and it's a little scary. It's where I fuck up big. Go ahead. Try four Ketel and sodas on an empty stomach and let me know how that treats you. Then, try six. Some nights eight? It's not a happy ending. Well, at least not in the grand scheme of things. If you've been married for ten years, yeah, you'd love some of these nights.

Oh my god, the one where the girl goes "You work at [Hugh's company]?" and I roll off her friend and say "Yeah" and she goes "So does my husband." I look down at the jeans that I'm sleeping in and they are hers and wonder where it all went wrong, but to a married guy that would be awesome, right? I can't believe that actually happened. Seriously, fuck a dog. I think I need to adopt a small child to reel this disaster back in via responsibility for another living being.

So, what was I talking about? Whatever, I stamped trouble on an individual because I KNOW TROUBLE. It's in the eyes. You can see it if you look real deep in them. She's still trouble, but as long as I'm stupid, I guess everything will be fine.

Actually, I'm not stupid, just self-deprecating. I'm actually quite handsome, charming, intelligent and witty. Just had to state that for the record. Don't take the blog too seriously. It's pseudo-fiction. It could be a ruse. A handful of individuals (sounds like crotch grabbing) know what's right and wrong and actually socialize with this bag of issues that I see in the mirror everyday.

Conversation of the day yesterday:
Girl: "You have good hair. If I were older I would totally date you"

Me: "Seriously? If you were older, I don't know that I would date you, but if I got wasted enough I might have really sloppy desperate sex with you that was both unfulfilling and left us both questioning our existence afterwards with our backs to each other while we pretended to sleep. That's assuming you were older. As for right now, probably not."