Thursday, October 20, 2005

I wish...

Jesus, Applecoreman did 100 wishes. I was too exhausted after 50 to do 50 more. Too much introspection, not enough...shit, what rhymes with introspection?.....

...big erection?

Not enough big erection?





Anyway, enjoy this half-off feat of blogger wanking:

I wish...

there was a decent, low-priced landscaping place close to my house.
the bathroom next to my office was working.
I was more patient.
I knew then what I know now.
I didn’t get comment spam on my blog.
Al Gore had been made president in 2000.
my work was closer to my house.
I made more money.
all the new-agey, goddessy, faux-support types would shut the fuck up.
health care didn’t cost so much.
I liked math.
I wasn’t constantly looking for the most efficient way to do every single thing.
I could sing and/or play an instrument.
Buster would walk on a leash like a normal dog.
I could get off my high horse every once in a while.
Bruce Springsteen was in love with me.
LA drivers didn’t slam on their brakes every time the sun is in their eyes.
I didn’t watch so much tv.
6 Feet Under was still on.
the bartenders in LA didn’t suck so much.
Americans would wake the fuck up.
the Cubs would win the World Series.
everyone could make a living doing what they love to do, especially me.
I was a better writer.
that I could always tell the difference between funny and mean.
I didn’t care so much what people think about me.
I could get more done on the weekends.
I could afford a real vacation in Hawaii or Tahiti or some shit like that.
I was a better surfer.
I was snorkeling right now.
Banana would stop escaping.
I could lose about 15 lbs. without exercising.
Red wine didn’t come back on me.
I’d never gotten married....there, I’ve said it.
I didn’t regret everything so much.
my family wasn’t spread out all over the country.
I’d had kids before it was too late.
I hadn’t wasted so much time doing nothing.
I had more dreams like the one I had the other night with David Duchovy in it.
I lived on a farm with lots of goats.
I knew what was wrong with me.
I could remember people’s names.
my bathroom was painted already.
I would get off the stick about replacing that chain link fence.
I could tell a decent joke.
there was a great Mexican place with awesome margaritas in my neighborhood.
I would just go to the dentist already.
I didn’t love French fries.
I wasn’t so scared of confrontation.
I had better breath in the morning.

No comments: