Support the Art

Bubly makes my favorite seltzer… I think.

We’re eating bison meat, avocado, and white rice for dinner.

I like turtles.

This is my stream of consciousness. It has no real direction, but it’s just going to go and go and go… and go… and food. I’m trying my best to not write with any typos, but we all know how that goes. Still hitting backspace along the way, which is something they say not to do… because the critic in you will activate and the artist side of you will have a hard time creating. I wonder if it’s a love/fear scale or similar to it. Love is when you create, right? And when you DON’T do something, it’s based out of fear… right? One of my pet peeves is when people say to not/don’t do something. So now your brain immediately starts to think of the activity and then imagine one of those circles with a line through it. Now what? You still see the picture behind the line. Now you have to figure out a problem. The much more immature and naive Kris would do it anyways, out of spite. Fully knowing it’s not smart, just because I was told not to do something, I had to do it. The stove was hot, Mom was right…

Louis CK has a great joke about how he hate’s the N-Word. Not “ni****,” that’s fine… but the literal N word, because now HE has to think about it. It’s just adding an extra step. This is a similar idea, but his is far more specific and hilarious. I tried to find the joke on youtube but alas, it’s a bunch of dopes “reacting” and calling for his cancellation. Fuuuuuuuck those mouthbreathing fool. They’re deadweight on society. In fact, I’d argue they’re pushing us backwards because more people hear them which gives power to their own internal critic, which in turn stops them from creating any art!! I may not agree with all art people create, but I will 100% support all creationists and their right to openly create it. It’s that fear-based critic mindset that can go gargle a barrel of semen and then brush their teeth with bird turds. Gross.

What right do they have to “cancel” anyone? How are they creating anything? Once you start to cancel one person for what they’ve said/done then it’s an ongoing battle against the freedom of speech. We’ve opened the floodgates to it. As far as I’m concerned, open expression is one of the greatest aspects of American culture, one of the few things people can do to elaborate on a feeling, emotion, or a situation. Now, if the joke isn’t funny, or the movie isn’t cinematic, or the book isn’t interesting, or the song doesn’t move you… then eventually it will find it’s spot in modern culture in the bottom of the barrel with most of Netflix. And to then try and make a name by knocking other people off a pedestal doesn’t give you any authority. Being a critic and creating nothing get’s far too much attention these days. So-and-so “reacts” to video of someone “reacting” and so forth. Fuck thaaaat. Give your attention to the creator and the art they produced, not the reaction of someone else. They’ve expressed pure beauty, or their attempt at it, and they shared it with the world. That’s not easy and something I’ve worked hard at doing myself. Motivate and inspire those around you to share their beauty, their art… whatever they choose to do, encourage it.

I’m hungry. These thoughts keep getting interrupted by the “is dinner ready yet?” question. Turns out that it finally is ready. Thanks for listening.

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Ice Cold Beer


The beer opens. I typically never drink beer, but there’s really something about a cold beer after a long day. The taste isn’t even all that delicious, but the learned association with it is. It’s one of the few beverages that brings up so many emotions… in a good way.

The smell reminds you of those days when you couldn’t buy a beer yourself, you had to play a game of “hey buddy…” asking someone that WAS of age to grab you a 30 pack (or “rack” depending on where you’re from) from the local liquor store (or “packie,” depending on where you’re from) for you and your underage friends. You’d pull short straws to figure out who would be the DD for the night and off you went. The first beer would open and you could immediately smell the Friday night fun that laid before you. Your friends would say dumb shit, you’d laugh hysterically, the DD would be annoyed as we continued to kick at the back of his seat in hysterics… but occasionally it was you so it wasn’t funny that time. From party to party you’d go, running from one as the cops pulled up and then going to the next one… from time to time getting split up from your friends and then taking a casual 3 mile run. Great way to sweat out the poison to make room for more.

The taste would hit your lips and immediately the thought of “homework” was alien. All you could think about was getting some “ass” and drinking more than you should. What brilliant kid was thinking, “We can’t get drunk on our own. Let’s play games to get ourselves even more drunk. In fact, if you lose the particular round of the game you’re going to have to drink your entire drink. That’ll be genius. We’ll drink to the point that we can barely function. I LOOOVE this idea.” And it’s called Beirut, by the way, Beerpong is when you use paddles. I think the movie Beerfest settled this for us.

Looking at the mug with a fresh head on it, the golden ale’d bubbles finding their way up to the top popping only to tell you how refreshing they are. Especially on a hot day, an ice cold beer was one of the most beautiful things you could see. Something about seeing it in front of you was like a reminder that the day’s work was all done and now it was time for some adult fun. The little bubbly beverage that could inspire you to do something you typically wouldn’t do. Maybe it was a couple beers that gave your the courage to ask her out, maybe the anticipation of an ice cold beer inspired your music, or maybe it was it was that first beer of an epic evening that rivals The Hangover movies. Who knows, but I do know when I see an ice cold beer it brings me joy, even if it isn’t mine. As long as it’s in a recreational fashion being taken down in an also responsible fashion, it’s a joyous occasion.

The cool glass against your palm, the sharp bubbles that hit your lips and ice down your entire gullet… there’s nothing like it. The weight of that barley juice hitting the bottom of your stomach brought a sense of full reminding you that this beer wasn’t meant to be chugged… post-college. You can drink all the wine, cider, seltzer, and cocktails you want, but nothing compares to a freezing cold beer that sits JUUUUUUST below room temperature.

The best beer I ever had was when I spent 3 weeks in Okinawa. After training in a Karate school for close to 4 hours, pouring sweat to a point where the dojo called it “Lake Kris” (this really happened), we shoved our puddles of uniforms into waterproof bags, and immediately went out for dinner. We got to the restaurant and after finding a spot on the floor around the tatami table, one of the local students asked each table “Beeru?” I think almost everyone’s hand shot up like a flare into the sky. They came back with mug after mug until everyone had theirs. We then “karii’d” or cheers’ed and the first sip was easily half the mug. After explosively training for such longevity in 110 degree heat with humidity that felt like 100%, it was the most magical liquid. Not only that, but because you’re so depleted, you immediately felt a light buzz. Everyone was so jovial to get together that you’re already on a high, but the Orion beer just hit … different. After having 4-6, you were definitely drunk. When you got back to the hotel, you’d pull your uniform out and bring everyone’s (low man on the totem-pole) down to the washroom. Then after getting another beer from the vending machine (?!?!) you’d meet everyone up on the roof to drink some more beer, stare at all of Japan and the sky that illuminated it. BUT, it was the first beer that was the favorite because you knew what followed.

Think hard, because I’m sure you have your favorite beer you’ve ever had… and you probably can remember your first. My first was ingested by a 15 year old me that had been peer pressured for years to drink… but after a bipolar breakup with my first real girlfriend, it felt appropriate, because that’s what I learned from movies, my REAL education. I even remember walking around Plymouth waterfront after having a Budweiser. Man, I could have taken on the whole town. I think I might have had another half a beer and was the biggest rebel the universe had ever seen… and it was our little secret.

Oh… the good ol’ days… Enjoy that beer, not too many, but enjoy it. It’s a blessing, a reminder, a time traveling device.

Featured Above – An Okinawa beer at the neighborhood restaurant called “Lemongrass.” Neighborhood restaurants were one of the coolest and most intriguing part of staying there. I can’t wait to get back…

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What am I talking about?

Writer’s block can feel like a flood of everything and nothing at the same time.

It’s either a damn or a rushing river, but either way you’re unable to take anything from it. Right now I have all the ideas in the world to write about, but I’m in agonizing physical pain and can’t sit here long enough to really delve into them. But then there are other times that I stare at the screen and nothing comes to mind. It could be after an eventful day, it could be after a day where I did almost nothing.

Either result feels the same – shitty writing.

There’s nothing amazing happening here. I’m honestly just lost in thought thinking about the pain a few of my friends are enduring. Heartbreak, confusion, being completely alone. Although we can’t do much to help them, being patient and remaining to be a lifeline is always helpful. They’re probably never pull on the line, but just to know that they’re not going to sink to the bottom knowing they have a line to pull on, is just enough to keep them from drowning… I hope. At least it was for me.

Not always can we be vulnerable enough to ask others for help or to ask them to listen to us. Sometimes we really just need to work it out by ourselves. Some would call it a type of problem solving. It could just be as simple as working through it in our own way. Emotions will pass but only if we let them.

I’m staring at this screen and nothing else is coming out. I’ve had a great day, but I’m thinking that even though I’ll keep the consistency going, I think it’s going to be important to spend more time on my writing during the day when I’m not out working all day. I think I put 250 miles on the car today, no exaggeration. Thankfully it’s a rental and the mileage is Enterprise’s problem. I’ve listened to podcasts, I’ve spoken with really interesting people, and I’ve learned a lot today. Unfortunately, I just can’t seem to pull any of it out of my memory banks. It really just feels like my brain has to sort through what’s important. In fact, I don’t think I’ve had a moment today where I’ve just done… nothing. It’s been “on task” all day. How do people operate like this? You know, the one’s that ALWAYS have to be busy? Man… this is no way to live. It’s great for a few days in a row, but holy shit I can’t wait to take a nap.

Dinner is ready, my neck and arm are yelling at me. I’ll bring some more heat tomorrow… promise.

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Heal yourself before you heal others…

Tonight is one of those nights that I’m just writing to keep the streak alive. There isn’t much of substance to add today. I met some really nice people, I got a couple fantastic workouts in, today was generally awesome.

I DID listen to a podcast that really emphasized and exemplified a lot of the emotion/energy/physical body relationship that I talk about quite frequently. I have to say, it was almost like kismet listening to it for the couple hours I spent in a car today. I highly recommend everyone listen to it. To summarize, Dr. Gabor Mate breaks down how trauma early in a childhood can create problems that last into our adult lives. He breaks it down to authentic self (which is allowing your emotions to come to the surface) and conditioned self (which is when we were taught to bottle up our anger as a child). His perspective is that we should be teaching children to understand their emotions, to think logically, and to then let them pass, as opposed to acting on them. He also goes into why people are depressed – because they’re oppressed… and much much more. Please listen to it with an open mind, you’ll be happy you did.

Again, it’s late and I’m quite tired. I’m very excited for dinner. We need to figure out better ways to operate because driving all over God’s creation for meetings and knocking neighborhoods is no bueno. ESPECIALLY with gas prices through the roof. Okay, I’m done. Take a listen, even in short doses. His new book is called “The Myth of Normal” and it’s on my Amazon wishlist. I guess I’m going to have to earn a paycheck before I order anymore books… or even finish the ones sitting next to me on this desk. AAAAH OVERWHELMED.. not really. But yeah, check it out!

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Decisions Decisions…

You know, I had a beautiful, perspective changing experience over the weekend that definitely needs elaborating on but I think that will have to wait for a moment that I’m a little more clearheaded, energetic, eloquent, and clearheaded… did I mention clearheaded?

But this is the weird one that’s eating at my mental bandwidth so I’ll just say it – through my place of employment, I was peer pressured to sign up for a 28 day course from a life coach.

Yup, that’s right, I’m now taking a course from a life coach. I’ve become part of the cliché. $49 later and now I have something ELSE to do in the morning, like listen to this guy’s advice that he gives himself and check off my accountability spreadsheet. Now, don’t get me wrong, he seems like a nice dude and all but this isn’t a real profession.

You’re finding new habits that better your life, taking in information/perspectives from different podcasts, and then you’re charging a certain amount of money to share it and then tell us how you want to inspire others?

That’s not all that inspiring. In fact, it’s oxymoronic in it’s morals. Bring people up by doing amazing shit constantly, not by charging them $49 for 28 days of tasks.

I’m kind of grossed out just thinking about it. Mentorship has been around forever and I grasp the concept, but to go full send in the direction of “life coach?” Usually that “mentorship” is some help from someone in the industry they’re seeking advice on… not just general “life.” Sure, there are some people out there that really need someone to help them gain some discipline to take accountability for their lives. Making your profession wrangling up the aimless cats seems kind of lame and predatory. Can he answer me to wipe from front-to-back or back-to-front? I’d love some google doc to fill out on what’s most effective.

Isn’t part of the responsibility of living this life to seek out information for ourselves? Why do I need an email from some guy telling me to audit my life, my personality, or my habits? I’m doing it daily already. Some of his trackers are literally “drinking a bunch of water” and “eating the right amount of protein” and “exercising” and “breathwork” and “meditation” and “connecting with loved ones.” I feel like I’ve been posting this shit for years for free while he profits off it… meanwhile I thought it was obvious and I was late to the party. And here I am, just asking for a coffee or two. I’m a fool… a decaffeinated fool … WINK

28 day course that’s asking me to do what I already do…. Okay, but now I am getting 5 more emails a day, a video that comes off slightly needy, and extra work? I’m questioning the work/reward ratio considering it’s extra to my already over the top routine. Shit, my routine (morning and evening) take up a good 3-6 of my waking hours. It’s probably slightly excessive, but in comparison to who? I model my routines off of other high performers I’ve learned from over the years. Martial artists I’ve met, teachers, parents, podcasts, books… we find a collection of habits/information from successful people as we age that work for US, not everyone. Should we all be life coaches? How do you become so unaware of your life that you don’t track yourself or at least try to succeed? I probably audit myself little too much…which can send me in a circle of anxiety, but I’m working on that day to day. Perhaps I’ll take a 28 day course to “succeed in mental health.”

Here’s my positive spin on the situation, because everything that happens has a positive view on it: if this dude can drop at least ONE nugget for me in 28 days, then it’ll be worth it. As someone that works daily to improve themselves in at least one facet or another, there’s very few “hacks” I haven’t heard yet. That’s what always blows my mind – someone selling a X-day course to “transform your life” meanwhile it’s all a hodgepodge of everyone’s habits that worked for him.

Give me a breaaaaaaaaaak.

I’m just having such a hard time swallowing the pill. C’mon man, if your job is to inspire, do something inspirational! We have so much access to information, to stories, to people… go conquer some wild shit on the daily and tell me about your mindset when you slapped the shit out of a gorilla, what you did to get on track when you couldn’t stop doing heroin but then made $10 million the next week while getting clean, or how you lost 200lb’s of fat in 3 weeks to become the next Mr. Olympia. Please, your spreadsheet of “drinking 8 cups of water” is like when the teacher gives us busy work. We all know you have nothing of substance, you’re hungover, and you just want your paycheck so you can go home. It’s okay, but at least Tony Robbins was giving Thanksgiving dinner to people. I don’t think I get any turkey and mashed potatoes at the end of the 28 days. Maybe just a high five and the accolade that I TrAnSfoRmED mY LiFE.

I hope that we can all lead lives that don’t require a life coach. I hope that we can all learn to be intuitive and introspective enough to audit our lives. In a world that is hooked on the big pharma take-a-pill mindset, simple things like “8 hours of sleep” (oh yeah, that was another one) and “eating real food” (yup, another) can make all the difference. It SHOULD be obvious, but because we’ve gotten wrapped up in a messy way to live with all too much human-fuckery, we’re giving this guy a job and a reason to take my $49. I was told I’ll get reimbursed if I finish the course, but this is like the “for a million dollars, would you jump in front of an oncoming car?” question – except it’s “for $49 dollars would you take the advice of a life coach for 28 days?


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Shouldn’t you…

It’s Friday night… why are you reading this?

Shouldn’t you be eating pizza with your significant other?

Shouldn’t you be drinking wine and playing a video game?

Shouldn’t you be catching up on all that reading you should be doing?

Shouldn’t you be starting that hobby you’ve been dying to do?

Shouldn’t you be catching up on sleep?

Shouldn’t you be exercising?

Shouldn’t you be following through with that solar proposal you got? 😉

Shouldn’t you be meditating?

Shouldn’t you be writing? (I AM.. LEAVE ME ALONE!)

Shouldn’t you be cleaning your house?

Shouldn’t you be tuning up your bike?

Shouldn’t you be doing whatever the fuck you want to be doing?

Shouldn’t you be writing about things that you should be doing?

Shouldn’t you just be writing as quickly as things come to your mind?

Shouldn’t you be doing something that you’re happy to do? That’s really it. Just do what you want. It’s YOUR Friday night. If you want to read this jibberish, by all means, please do. But there’s millions of hours of content on YouTube you could be watching. The new Lord of the Rings series just released and it’s miles better than the new Game of Thrones series. As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.

I’m going to enjoy my Friday night with a couple games and some more LotR on Amazon. Enjoy your night. I might drop a Monday edition, but we’ll see if it’s worth writing/reading.

Take care, Happy Labor Day weekend!

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Check out my booboo

One of the coolest parts of being a kid was when you first started to ride your “big boy/girl/she/it/PronounOfTheDay bike.” Then the training wheels finally came off and you truly were a big boy. There wasn’t much else to define your “big boy-ness” until you got your license. Maybe getting to 2nd base or something, but that wasn’t provable.

Damn, we’re accepting the risk and responsibility of being on the big boy bike. This thing could tip and any moment and we’d fall on our face, your knee would explode, or worst of all .. you got a boo boo.

But we accepted it. We didn’t know really that we accepted risk, but we did. And it was exciting, it was awesome, it was a rush. HOLY SHIT, I’m a big boy! Look at me cruise down the driveway with my helmet and bright green huffy. it even had some kickass ninja turtle tassels on the handlebars… and yes, that’s still considered manly.

What I’m getting at is that we were all so excited for that moment. We, as little kids, could accept the risk of going fast, riding on pavement, and possibly (definitely) eating shit. And our parents expected it from us. They knew, that at some point, we’re going to get banged up, cry to the heavens in some decibel that only dogs can hear for someone to fix it, they’d give us a band-aid and mom would kiss it better. Boom. I’m fine. Pain is temporary, but riding your big boy bike glory is forever.

Now since when has it become that everything is “for our safety?”

Bitch, that’s not what I was taught when I was a kid. I was told that as you grow, you take more and more calculated risks and you deal with the consequences. Should we have a few features that keep us safe? Of course. It would be ridiculous to think otherwise. Airbags are awesome. I’d much rather a pillow of air smacks me in the face during a collision than a metal steering wheel and a mean case of whiplash.

Shit, our parents made sure to strap a helmet on our heads before they pushed us by the seat of our big-PRONOUN-bike. They weren’t serial killers that wanted to see their kid’s head split open all over the pavement. They DID want to see us kick some ass riding in a straight line, then start to take a few small, calculated risks and subsequently… fail, which would lead to the infamous “booboo.” Again, easily repairable but their lessons last a lifetime. I still remember the first time my knee gushed blood. All better now, but I remembered that sand doesn’t have the same traction that pavement does.

Now, if we we’re supposed to learn how to stay in control when riding a bicycle, why are our cars starting to drive for themselves? Do we really want to have our shit on autopilot all the time? Why? So you can browse Instagram and drink your pumpkin latte? Where’s the fun in that?

Driving used to be enjoyable. You, behind the wheel of a 2 ton slab of steel with 4 wheels that allowed you to bring yourself from A to B but also allow you to feel in control. Sometimes life can spiral like a drunk tornado on a tilt-a-whirl, but those times when you could just go for a drive allowed you to think while having a grip on something. Countless times when I was younger, I found the most joy and solace by going for an hour drive aimlessly. I’d just get myself lost and then get home. Who cared? Gas was cheaper and the car was fun to drive. Some of your favorite music playing in the background while you could let your thoughts unravel.

Now driving can become a chore… and you know what peels away layers of the fun? When your car drives for you. Why is it reading the lanes and beeping at me? I will preface; I am a blinker advocate. But if no one is around, it’s fine. Change lanes 40 times with no blinker for all I care… but, if a blinker is on and no one is around, did it really blink?

BEEP BEEP BEEP as I’m changing lanes. The steering wheel starts to turn for itself while “staying within the lines.” The car automatically slowing down when getting “too close” to the car in front of you. Beeps at me when I’m about to back over a pedestrian… okay, that one’s fair.

Overall, I don’t want it. Can’t we just agree that, although progress in technology is great, sometimes we’re going a little far. These “safety features” could probably be a bit overkill. How about we make a wheel that doesn’t lose tread? How about suspension that is indestructible? How about an unrustable undercarriage? How about an engine that goes 2000 miles on a drop of gas and a sunflower seed? BEEP BEEP BEEP STAY IN YOUR LANE KRIS BEEEP BEEP BEEP BOOP.

This isn’t the “get-off-my-lawn-you-damn-kids” speech. This is just the let’s-change-lanes-and-stop-being-giant-pussies” speech. Control your car and control your life. Control what you can and if it’s driving you insane… well, be 16 again and go for a drive.

Dinner’s ready. Until next time. Which will be tomorrow. Because consistency is key. It’s 9:36pm. My goodness.


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I’m not proofreading this one…

Some people just want a fight.

That’s all.

You can feed into their logic to no end, you can answer all their questions, you can be nice as pie (pizza pie!), but at the end of the day they just want to fight.

They probably don’t know it, but they do. They crave confrontation. They crave the argument. They really crave an argument with themselves. When you point the finger at everyone else because everyone else is the asshole, well… I’m pretty sure you can figure it out.

You can compliment their fashion but after they say “Thanks” they’re going to follow up with something backhanded. It may not be mean or really even all that logically grounded, but they’re going to make sure that you know they don’t trust you and even if they did… well… you’re a BidenTrumpClintonPolitics supporter! RAAAAAAH! Yer teh enemeeeeeh! I’m right, you’re wrong. Blah blah blah.


As I’ve returned to the door-to-door sales life (siiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiigh) I’ve started to meet the hermits that live lonely lives. Some I feel terrible for (some poor guy has lived in the same room since 1962, how is it even possible?), some I still pity but know that they can still change. If it’s just a personality issue, then toss back some “plant medicine” and let your ego start to heal again.

The real question is simple – “Who hurt you?”

I will say, since I’ve returned with a much brighter perspective on people and how we’re all connected, it’s much easier to shrug off someone’s misery. It’s also a lot more fun to put a smile on someone’s face that may have been having a rough day. Or maybe it was just a boring day, uneventful, and coming to their door with a proposition and a smile was the highlight. I’m fine with that. Sometimes we can define “success” just by having an interesting conversation and getting to know someone a little bit.

Today was all around successful to me, but it’s really how I define it that made it successful. There’s the perspective that my car drank all my gas as I drove all over God’s creation, there’s the perspective that I didn’t make any money today while I spent way too much, there’s the perspective that I didn’t create any new business for myself… or I could look at it all differently…

I spent my day meeting new people, walking around in the sunshine for a couple hours, learning about new neighborhoods and towns that I had never been to, gaining an even greater understanding of the people that make up New England, that I put some smiles on some faces and it had a butterfly effect to someone they know.

It’s all about perspective. I got my workout in, I was blessed enough to have dinner taken care of by the person I treasure on this planet most. I’m a very lucky human being and although I may be in a tougher spot than I’m used to… there’s more positives to take away than anything else. Including the fact that this adversity will serve me well in the future. It’s just another opportunity to learn, that’s all.

I’m a lucky sonovabitch. I’m blessed. I’m grateful for every moment I have on this Earth, regardless of what it brings. It’s all a chance to learn and grow. Thank you to everyone around me – friends, family, doubters, haters, whatever. You all bring something to the table and on the table is plenty of flavors for everyone.

Happy Tuesday!

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Earn the Pizza

Buffalo Chicken Pizza.

It’s right there. So close I can smell it. Obviously I can smell it, BuffChx Pizza wanders into everyone’s nostrils whenever it’s near. Invitation or not, the seductively spicy aroma is coming for you.

But you’re not able to eat it unless you take care of business first.

That means that you had to have gotten your exercise in first. CHECK.

Did you get in your writing for the night? CHE..

..Working on it.

The aroma is dancing through my living room like an old Disney cartoon’s cooling pie on the windowsill. Just now it’s a pizzaaaa pie. It has a hold on me. I can’t break it’s grips. I’m levitating towards it. Is it choking me out? Kind of, but I like it. Is that weird? Maybe a little, but goddamn I’ve been craving this pizza all weekend.

Sometimes you can try and make “pizza” with some tortillas and cheese, but it’s just not the same. You need that crunch thick crust, the gooey cheese, the sauce dripping from every bite. On the first bite the tang from the buffalo sauce will only accentuate the flavor of the mozzarella cheese and the grilled chicken laying upon it like a Victoria’s Secret model trying to seduce you, waving you over to a bed of silk buffalo-flavored sheets. I am the master of my domain, sexy chicken, I will devour you when I’ve earned it and when you’re ready for it.

But you can’t just jump right into the pizza, you have to have some healthy protein first. The pizza is the treat. So that means you have to be patient and eat the steak first, but that means waiting for the steak to be ready. Although I smell nothing but pizza, the steak will take priority. Eating the pizza first would be like jumping straight past dinner and into dessert. What kind of sick maniac would do such a thing?

Someone that cannot flex their discipline muscle. You know what else you need to do before you engage the pizza? You need to drink tons of water. A good way to overeat is to eat a meal before having any water. Those signals can get confusing. Therefor, it’s your job to drink a shit ton of water before eating, that way when you’re actually full, you know it. Otherwise you’ll have a slice too much and when you’re this close to bedtime, that’s a heavy mistake to make.

DING – it sounds like dinner is ready. I’ve now earned the meal. We worked out, we did our writing, we waited patiently. I can only drool all over myself so much before I know it’s time.

I hope you earned your meal tonight and earned a little extra for afterwards.

Happy Monday everyone!

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THAT’S why the lady… is a tramp!

What do you listen to when you do art? Right now, I have myself some Hong Kong Beach Waves for the next 9 hours.

I have no intention of writing that long. It’s Friday night and as much fun as this is, I’d rather do something else. But what I have noticed is that I only seem to used the left shift button and never the right? Why is that? Is that why my goddamned left arm hurts so much? Is it overuse? Should I start to use that right shift just a little bit more? Maybe it would lead to me using my right hand more often for those tiny tasks… the ones that use the small motor skills? But I write on paper with my right hand. Although, it’s usually just some chicken scratch, because who the hell even writes on paper anymore? If you’re doing long, freeform writing and you’re doing it on paper, you’re killing yourself. Holy shit, my hand just cramped thinking about it. Then again, maybe that’s why things hurt? Maybe it’s atrophy? But everything else I do is with my right hand.

Friday’s are fun. What is it? What is the stigma of a Friday vs a Monday? How do we break it? How do we start to see Mondays as a huge day to be just the same as a Friday? Are we day-ists? Week-ists? Weekend-ists? Maaaaaaaaaaaaaaan, call me by my new pronoun PUPPYSHIT.

I’ve once again, on a Friday night, indulged in the dark arts of “the edible” and the other gray-area arts of “the cocktail.” Therefor, once everything kicks in I’ll call it quits and move on with my life. Or rather, move on with my Friday night.

Now, I do want to hit on something. Whilst (like that? sexy, right?) working with someone earlier, I watched their mood elevate. It was all about exercise and learning, but man oh man, did they come in with a sour puss on their face. Everything was about wanting more and not being grateful for what they have, acting as if life should reward them with something for their hard work. And yes, this person works hard as a starving 1-armed monkey grabbing a greased up banana hooked up to an electric fence while another monkey’s grabbing his ass.

But the universe owes us nothing. The universe doesn’t give a fuuuuuuck how hard you work. It’s quite sad and really frustrating… but true.

If the universe wants to reward us, it will. My cries of being entitled to something nice, some good luck, some cool material goods will always go unheard. By the universe, anyways. The people around me will probably tell me it’s time to “Shut the fuck up.”

All we can do is grind it out with a smile on our faces. More intelligent people than I have said it before, something along the lines of “fall in love with the grind.” Sorry, let me refresh my bevvy and come back with a fresh perspective. Hopefully the edible doesn’t peel my mind away…

Considering he owed the mob his career and tons of money, did Frank Sinatra reeeeeeeally do it his way?

Show up daily, ready to work. Skip a day and you pay. Lay down by the bay and eat a bunch of hay. I just may!


Be more grateful. Seriously. Place blame on yourself and accept it. Instead of pointing fingers out, look in the mirror first. Do we blame the economy for losing tons of money? No, you should look in the mirror and call yourself out on not playing your cards right.

Every day we’re dealt a hand and it could be the same one as yesterday or slightly different, but it’s how we play it that will decide the outcome. Sure, sometimes you fold. Sometimes you bluff. Sometimes you have the best possible hand but still don’t win.

That’s liiiiiiife. – Frank Sinatra

You can’t control what happens to you all the time, but you can ALWAYS control how you react to it. You can always do your best to brighten up the spirits of people around you. Yes, we all need a shoulder to lay our head upon from time to time, but we should always work to bring people up. If you’re feeling awful and you brighten someone’s day just by smiling and being their light… doesn’t that cheer you up a little bit? Maybe? If not, you’re the asshole.

Frank Sinatra was controlled by the mob, but we never heard him bitch about it. He sang about it. He put it in his art. Save your sob story and draw it. Quit dragging us down with your bullshit. We all have a story and unless you can illustrate it, no one caaaaaaaares.

I heard once, that if everyone around you is an asshole, who do you think is really the asshole.

To wrap this up, once this person got a great workout and I brightened up their spirits, along with the endorphins from their hard work. At the end of it all, they were a different person. They remained to be a little bit of a smartass, but hey, I’ll take a smartass over a toxic, miserable prick. You can have all the money and things in the world, but it won’t make you happy. It’ll only eliminate money problems. A rich spade is still a spade. A rich asshole is still an asshole, but now it’s just exacerbated by his or her wealth.

PS – I switched to Frank Sinatra music AFTER I wrote about him. No idea where the inspiration came from, but man, what a G.

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