Grampa’s Handy-Dandy Rules for Living, Vol. 4 12 comments

Posted by grampa in grampa's handy-dandy rules for living (Saturday July 1, 2006 at 10:49 pm)

Rule #86: Expectations are merely premeditated resentments

This is one of those sappy, Hallmarky NA things that my sponsor told me early, in the beginning of my recovery.  Hearing it made me just want to slap him in the ole beaner. 

Life, however, has proven to me that this is, in fact, true.

For instance:

You get up at 4:30 in the morning and have to drive about 65 miles to the airport to catch the red eye to Honolulu.  You should have awakened half an hour earlier, but you must’ve turned off your alarm in an Ambien inspired haze.  You are therefore running late.  You decide to forego your stop at the ATM because you can reasonably expect (Expectation #1) that there will be one in the airport in Honolulu.  In fact, you know this to be true and you have used it before.  It is even an ATM from your bank, so you don’t have to pay that stupid service charge.

You are flying on a new airline in the Islands, one that has special, super-low fares in an effort to drum up business.  You reasonably expect that you will save some money by using this airline (Expectation #2). 

Aside #1: On the airplane there was this guy who was so unbelievably gay that it hurt to look at him.  The thing is, I don’t know if HE knows that he is gay.  Everyone else sure as fuck does.  He’s this Pacific Islander dude.  Now, in case you don’t know it, in general the Pacific Islander, notably the Filipino and Hawaiian, usually exudes this uber-masculinity.  It’s like a land full of alpha males, all pissing everywhere to mark their territory.  Anything that even remotely smacks of gayness is shunned in an attempt to posture more strongly in the hopes of being the next great Head Clubber.  Anyway, this guy is in his late forties or early fifties.  He has short, spiky hair, gelled to all hell and he has long hair in the back.  Complete fucking mulletude, my friends.  He is wearing a white T-shirt and carpenter pants.  The white T-shirt has the sleeves cut off.  It is also cut off about an inch above the belly button.  Here he is, swaggering like a matador, love handles poking out of his Elton John half-shirt, Captain Mullet, ready to piss all over the world.  Truly, it hurt to look at him.  I almost felt sorry for him for a second.  It passed.  Apparently the airline couldn’t let it go, though.  Security met him as soon as we landed and he was escorted off the plane.  Apparently he was too gay to be on their plane.  He was last seen playing hide the nightstick with four TSA agents. (more…)

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