Six Saturday Morning Musings: From Hell Week To Fuckery
Originally Posted: 2017
Your brain on hell week is like a stalled stream of a show you’ve been binge-watching on Netflix. And it’s the kind of bing-watching you didn’t even do intentionally; all of a sudden you look at your phone and realize that autoplay has been running your life for the better part of the night. Also, it’s a series you’ve watched a few hundred times before.
It smells like coffee for breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but you crave the smell of your sheets and the sound of a beer bottle being popped open. It tastes like carbohydrates and fast food, if it tastes like anything at all.
It feels like waking up after your alarm and driving home playing the podcast on full blast to make sure you don’t crash your car. Like sore feet and ridiculous jokes that wrap you up in a quick hug backstage while you’re slowly losing your grasp on reality.
But then, you open. And goddammit, does that feel good. You put on seven pounds of makeup, lace the corset extra-tight, and bask in the glow of the stage light to recharge your back up battery.
You bow, you drink, and finally, you sleep. And all of it was worth it.
I fucking love hospital shows. Any kind of hospital show. From dramas like Grey’s to comedies like Scrubs.
(Although honestly Grey’s has lost me since pretty much all of my favorite characters are gone… Lexie, Mark, CALLIE, Christina…. I mean really, what’s the point)
I watch them so often that when people who are, you know, ACTUALLY doctors break out the medical jargon, I chuckle and nod my head with arrogant eyebrows and say, “Ah, yes. An embolism***. I saw that on an episode of—- OH SHIT AM I GONNA DIE?!?!”
***I have never been told that I had an embolism, it’s just the first medical term I could think of. But you get the point.
Wrapping Christmas presents makes me giddy, even though I wrap like a toddler who got into the grown-up egg nog.
I think I turn into a literal elf. All of a sudden I’ll snap out of the trance and realize I’m decked in snowflake jammies, chugging my fourth hot chocolate, and there’s a ringing in my ears that sounds like sleigh bells.
‘Tis the season, motherfuckers.
You know, it’s honestly baffling to me that people exist who can have the kind of sick, deep greed that the Republicans do.
How could their addiction to money be so consuming and thick that they would knowingly put millions of American people (the ones that they’re supposed to be looking out for) in serious life-or-death jeopardy? For what? Another yacht. A jewel that costs enough to feed a family. Over millions of lives and the well-being of their countrymen.
I’ve always been fascinated by post-apocalyptic fiction. How does the world end? In a bang of nuclear destruction? In Mother Nature’s well-earned revenge? An alien invasion or the outbreak of some zombie-creating disease?
Well, now I’m starting to think that however if may happen, the seed, the root of it all, will be greed. As it always has been.
And it’s those with this greed who always seem to have the power, so I say it’s time for the rest of us to step up and become superheroes. Kick the villains off their ivory-plated pedestals once and for all.
This tax bill, man. It’s corrupt. It’s inhumane. It’s completely fucked.
I’m saying fuck a lot this morning.
Fuck! Fuck. FUUUUuuuuuuCccccK.