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Monday, March 28, 2005

Easter Crap List

Does a miracle start
Even though no one tries
After all of this time
After all it's just fine
But it hurts sometimes

Dialogue from Saturday…

Berg: Yeah, so tomorrow I plan on going to IKEA and getting me a good desk so I can look up porn properly.
Shaun: uh… Tomorrow?
Berg: yeah, I’m planin-Awww crap! That’s right!
*****
Berg: Hey Marc, tomorrow ya wanna hit up Chipotle?
Marc: Well tomorrow I’m going to be with my family.
Berg: Wuh? Dammit, that’s right.
****
Berg: Know what I’m gonna do tomorrow? I’m gonna make me some homemade tacos. I haven’t had tac-
Shaun: What? Tomorrow?
Berg: yuh huh and then- Oh, that’s right, gosh!
****
Berg: So I’m gonna go to Best Buy and get me a big ass receiver and get me some speakers
H: I don’t think Best Buy will be open tomorrow. Aren’t you going to be with your fam?
Berg: Damn it! That’s right.
*****
Berg: So tomorrow I’m going to go to the grocery store and buy me some bologna and mayo and then…
Marc: uh Tom
Berg:…hookers for five bucks and bring one back to my place after I…
Shaun: Berg
Berg:…So then I’ll throw that mayo laced bologna toward that ass and…
Marc: TOM!
Berg: …that shit wont ever come off but then I got some sparklers so….
Shaun & Marc: TOM!!!
Berg:…hit that—What?
Marc: Tomorrow’s Easter.
Berg: OH FOR THE LOVE OF GREYSKULL.

Every holiday is like this for me. I make all these plans on going shopping and spending money until I find out that some holiday interferes.

Not that I’m against holidays because I love every one of them. It’s just that there's…

1. Nothing to do on holidays
How’s that for a segue?
Can’t buy Pizza-holiday
Can’t buy Robin Hood: Prince of Theives—Holiday
Can’t get me any JoJo’s—Holiday
Can’t buy me any Chipotle—holiday

These holidays are to be with your family and I totally understand, but what if you see too much of your family to begin with? What if your family decides to clean and work around the house on holidays?

Because it’s what always happens at the Berg household. Every holiday everyone’s running around vacuuming, dusting, folding, and washing because there’s nothing else to do. My Dad, Brother, and myself all hate being at the house when we don’t have to. All three of us are rarely around and we all need to be out doing something. Since everything is closed we might as well clean the house.

That’s why living away from your parents is such a luxury.

Also, can’t buy any grape bubblegum—holiday and it doesn’t exist anymore.

2. WHAT THE HELL HAPPENED TO GRAPE BUBBLEGUM?
So last week when I’m at the airport I’m desperately looking around for bubblegum because my ears hate any elevation. I’m at the newsstand looking for gum—not any ordinary gum, but special gum.

I’m looking for some classic grape bubblegum—bubblelicius, bubble yum, or better yet Big League Chew for the plane ride. NOTHING. Not even any strawberry, or that overrated watermelon bubble gum crap.

Instead all they had was the Extra stuff, which is all right any other time but I wanna blow bubbles and have the grape goodness.

3. ESPN’s Dreamjob
Good idea but look at the judges! You have Kit Hoover who’s famous from MTV's Road Rules and then Steven A Smith who can’t stop yelling. Now I’m watching a columnist, Woody Paige, critique someone on body language.

All this hosted by Stuart Scott who—“BOOYAH, HOLLA ATCHA BOYS!”—can get a bit annoying after awhile. Plus, he’s got a glass eye (?) that I can’t stop looking at.

My point is, there are other anchors that tower over these guys.
For instance, Greg Gumble is fantastic; Dan Patrick is good, even Linda Cohn is solid.
It’s one thing to try and find a decent anchor, but when you have rookies being criticized and critiqued by people who…need to be criticized and critiqued, it’s really pathetic. It’s a real “MTV” type thing to do!

4. Balding
This is gonna be therapeutic for me, so either skip it or bare with it.

an anecdote…
January 2002,

I’m sitting in my apartment with my cousin who’s reading the paper on the other side of our living room. I just had my pictures developed from a great backpacking trip in Arizona.
Cousin Nick: So how was the trip?

Berg flipping through the pictures: Oh it was great! Temperatures of 70 and we all got along great. I was doing Creed poses everywhere
Nick: Creed poses?
Berg: Yeah like this picture here with arms wide open. (notices bald spot)…I thought I was the only one doing a Creed pose?
Nick: Huh?
Berg: This guy is wearing my shorts and boots. He’s also got my…Dude, this is me! Crap man, I’m losing my hair!
Nick still looking at the paper: yup.

Not that it was shocking because I knew I was blessed with horseshit genes from the start.
After all, when a man from Wisco and a woman from Iowa start drinking…yadda yadda yadda and BAM, balding at the ripe old age of 22!

I accept it though because I am who I is…or whatever and I’m not about to start worrying about something that I can’t change.

It’s the acquaintances whom I only see once a year that can get to me sometimes. Usually 4 out of 5 comments about my head will be fine with me and I won’t end up remembering anything about it, but that fifth one…


“hehe Now the reason why you have short hair is not because you’re losing it
right haha?”

When it comes to life, I’m as optimistic as one can get.
I know I’m going to find that perfect woman.
I know I’ll land that great job.
Doritos will never go run out!


Then that fifth comment will come about and It wont leave my head. It will eat me up for hours, even days and I wont be able to get it out of my mind.

The anxiety that came with a quarter life crisis I had has been over for a couple months now and I haven’t had to deal with anything like that since middle school. That fifth comment though will send me off in a mental path where I’ll lay in bed and the anxiety will come back…

Maybe I’ll never get that perfect woman, or any woman.
Maybe I’ll never get a good job. What if I stay at my job and work nights for 35 years with nothing to show for it.
What the hell will I possibly do if Nazis bomb the Doritos factory?

Then I’ll open my eyes with a cold sweat and my heart racing. Music won’t help it (it usually does) nor does the TV because I just can’t focus. It will take a lot of inner consoling from my optimism, but I’ll be fine again eventually.

What really pisses me off (but I understand) is the curious glances toward my head during a conversation. I totally understand it because it’s a lot like talking to a woman with big breasts (or big mugumbos, or capital knockers, or large funbags, or—nevermind).

IT’S.
SO.
TOUGH.
NOT.
TO.
LOOK!

The whole ordeal reminds me of that one Simpson’s episode.

So the moral of the story is… uh cherish those Doritos!

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