Every day has a morning. Except that one day when the Pope decided to skip over it and go straight to 8 at night. He really couldn’t wait until the American Idol Results Show. When you have the kind of pull that the Pope has, why not skip through the early part of the day?
(Doesn’t that hand gesture mean asshole?)
My mornings, like yours, are full of self-pity and wishing that over night a fungus had formed in the air conditioning system and killed me in my sleep. Really, mornings are lame. No matter what time you wake up either. Those first few moments of awake are terrible. Your body is tight, your eyes glued together, possibly have your boxed stuck to your stomach if you were a naughty boy, and if you’re like me, your bed sheets are all over the place. I move around a lot when I sleep. I don’t know if it’s because I keep my temper bottled up or that I have a lot of unused energy. Could be both because I sit way too much and boy howdy do I want to punch a lot of people.
Typically the first thing I do when I wake up is turn off the alarm on my phone. I hate beeping. I never understood those jokes about alarm clocks getting smashed until I had responsibilities. I used to have an alarm clock shaped like a baseball that would say “Hey, wake up. The big game is here!” or something then proceeded to do play-by-play of me hitting a game winning home run. I liked that alarm clock. Then I got older and probably smashed it angry that I knew my big league dreams would never come true. Now I have to deal with the beeping on my phone. Beeping alarm clocks is what I blame for the murder of birds. I hate birds now because of alarm clocks. If Michael Vick had strangled flamingos to death, I would have been more forgiving. Birds chirping is the sound of cancer growing. How can we like a species that vomits into their children’s mouths? For fun too. I can understand chewing a sandwich then throwing it up into your kid’s face for some laughs but for sustenance? For survival? Birds stink. You became irrelevant after the invention of throwing things through the air.
(The asshole The Pope was referring to)
My alarm now turned off, I roll out of bed. I don’t make my bed in the morning. It’s way too much of a mess. I’ve got things to do. Like turn off my sound machine. My sound machine, the one thing I could not live without. It’s a product created in the 1980s that I use for white noise to help me sleep. I’ve had it forever. I don’t know how it still works. I knew I would never marry this one girl I liked because she told me she has to sleep in complete silence and in complete darkness. I like a little bit of light and my sound machine blasting. It’s so soothing. It has two setting. Hi and Lo. How cool is that? They abbreviate the words! That’s how you know it’s from the 1980s. Everything was abbreviated back then. Especially respect for gay people.
After flicking off the sound machine with my toe (I told you it was awesome, I don’t even have to bend over to turn it on or off) I head out to the living room. It’s here that if my dog is around that I’ll find him stretched out on the couch. He’ll stretch more. He knows it’s the start of a new day. I’ll make myself breakfast which usually is nothing more than some awful tasting cereal in milk. Actually I shouldn’t call it awful tasting. I’ve gotten used to it. It’s healthy though and breakfast is the most important meal of the day. I fix the dog some breakfast which is his dog food which looks very similar to my cereal. I question if he switched them over night then realized there’s nothing I can do about it now.
(Anything that looks this delicious can’t possible be for dogs)
While the fat dog eats I brush my teeth. I had a dream once that the prettiest girl in school was talking to me at an ice skating rink and then she smelt my breath. It blew my chances with her. Since then I make sure to brush my teeth frequently. If I can still hear fatty eating I’ll stick some mouthwash in my mouth to kill the time. I think for a moment if I should swallow it, quit my job, and become a wino. Then the dog runs over to me wanting to go outside. He hits my knee hard and the mouthwash splashes out into the sink. Damn it! I’ll have to wait another day to do something new with my life.
I take the dog outside and he shits. He always shits. I’m pretty sure he’s just a pile of shit in the shape of a dog and each time he goes outside a piece of himself falls off onto the ground. I pick up the shit and see a neighbor with a dog not on a leash. Wonderful. You can afford to own a nice car with a nice stereo system with a nice pair of rims but a leash is out of your price range? Hey, it’s your money stupid.
(Nice rims. Too bad you live in a one bedroom apartment with 6 other people)
We return inside and I look around one last time. Maybe I’ll urinate. Did I mention I always urinate as soon as I wake up? Yeah that’s pretty normal. I can admit that. I actually pee a ton. I could easily fill a child’s swimming pool with my weekly urine. I gather up my cell phone (left pocket), my keys (right pocket), and wallet (back right pocket). Then I realized I’m going to need my keys to open up my car so I take them out again. I say goodbye to the dog and he pretends that he’s going to miss me. He gets to lick himself all day long without me yelling at him to stop. You’d think a 12-year-old dog would know to stop licking himself so much. I guess it’s true, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks.
The morning for me is officially over. As soon as I start my car it’s no longer morning. There’s no turning back. No matter where it is I’m going to, the odds of me going back to sleep are slim. I have begun my day. Every possibility is now open. Will something good happen? Will I meet a person who will change my life? Will I die? I have to live my day to find out. Unless I die. You don’t really find out that you die. You just do it. Then maybe you go somewhere. Hopefully somewhere that you don’t have to suffer through the mundane mornings.