I need one of those speed-bags boxers use.
Everytime I want to do something, I encounter this attitude.
Whatcha wanna do?
Wanna join next year’s basketball league?
Wanna see a comedy show in Madison?
Dear professional who wants to work with me: wanna email me back because I emailed you four months ago and each month I’ve followed up with a polite request for you to email me back like a professional (and not like a teenage girl who’s not interested but doesn’t have the confidence to just say no?) I want to get moving on things. So, maybe let’s get moving? Or do you have a lot of “indifferencing” to be doing? Yeah. Probably that. Netflix + Angry Birds + Flappy Birds + Incognito Internet browsing will really amp up the meh-factor in your life.
Wanna go . . .?
Nah. They don’t. People are boring. People are dull. They don’t like weird. They like sameness. They don’t like risk. They like cat photos. They like Two and a Half Men. They like being told when to laugh, when you stop, go, and turn. They want security. They want to be great again . . . but they want someone else to do it for them.
SO when you ask, wanna go take a risk? Don’t be surprised when you get:
Did you like the movie?
Why didn’t you like it?
It was kind of, bleh, and meh, and the part with the guy who was all like, “Bah!” I was more like meh.
Instead of ranting at human beings, perhaps a speed-bag would suffice. I can’t keep kick-boxing the bumper of my Buick anymore. One day the bottom will fall off and I’ll be Flinstone-style getting to work everyday.
Yabba-dadda . . . meh.
“Hey, baby, you wanna hop in and get outta here?”
“Meh. No thanks. Netflix is streaming Fireplace for Your Home.”
“Okay. I am off to not go on an insane rampage.”