Wednesday, February 16, 2011

My Recovery

So I had a tricky time getting through Valentine's day.  Not only was I single, awkward, and inappropriate, I was also sick.  Starting Sunday night and stretching well into Tuesday I felt a little like those people glued to the wall with xenomorph excretions begging for death.

The Taco Bell across the street hates me.  If I want a taco, I have to go through the drive-through and disguise my voice.  Even then it's a gamble.  Tuesday night I was well enough to go venture out for food and by gum, I just wanted a burrito.  I pulled up, covered my face from the camera from the camera, and did my best impression of a hung-over Mexican.  When I pulled away with my food, I had found that each of my burritos were twice their standard size.  It was a sign.

Everything was going to be okay.

I came home and became acquainted with a meme called And Not a Single Fuck Was Given That Day.

I'm especially fond of this one.

I was touched.  I was overcome by visions of this one amazing day.  A day where throughout the world not a single person gave even one fuck.  A day where all of humanity got together and was just okay with it all.

I damn near cried.

Also, I listened to this song about twenty times.  It is impossible not to be happy (or at least as sad as you were) while hearing this song.  It makes me dream of better things.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Dear Adam,
You, kind sir, make ME dream of better things.

Forever Your Pecanita.

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