Pah-poing-boing

I was driving in my car to Keith's house, listening to "Like a G6". I drove through an intersection and, having passed through said intersection, a brilliant white fox jumped out of some bushes and stopped directly in front of me. I slammed on the brakes. The fox remained completely still. I was compelled to get out of my car.

I stood behind the open driver's side door and the fox said, "I can show you many wondrous things in the land of the silver sun."

To which I replied, "That's cool. I was just going to play cards."

And then uh...kinda...ran out of steam on that one...

The point is, you can only romanticize your life so much. Like, you can't just walk around acting like magical things happen to you all the time when you're just going to your friend's house to play Capitalism for four hours.

But at the same time, you can't just lie about petty stuff either. I couldn't be like, "I was listening to 'Like a G6' and busting incredible dance moves in my seat." Because, you know I'm lying. And if even if I wasn't, you wouldn't care.

So what you gotta do is realistically lie and then extrapolate awesomeness from that.

You could be like, "I rolled down the window and stuck my head out into the icy wind and defiantly opened my eyes against the burn." (which is something I totally be doing all the times) And then you could talk about how that reminds you of high-school, when you'd have to drive to school as the sun was coming up and you'd take the back roads and go flying over the hills and through the twisty turns and it shocked the sleepiness out of you. Or how'd you go and get a giant slurpee and finish it when there was still snow on the ground. Because instead of fighting the cold you just internalized it, or you held it in your clenched fist and squeezed until everything went numb.

And then you could say something about how you can't accomplish anything great by suppressing your self. You gotta do you. In any condition. And the greater the struggle, the greater the...good...stuff...is brought.

Then you gotta undercut it by saying something like, "Unless you're tired. Which there really isn't anything you can do about. Just cover yourself in blankets and fade into the warmth until real life is far away."

I want to sleep on sand. Warm beach sand. There's nothing I would like better than to press the side of my head into some warm beach sand right now. I can feel all the little granules. So warm. Icy grass is so cold. Boo icy grass! Eat at Del-Taco, icy grass!