You could be my black Kate Moss tonight.

And there’s no escaping from constant escape.

Distracting ourselves.

Avoiding confrontation.

Getting past the moment.

Jacking off.

Television.

Denial.

Science of Happy.

“I wanted to talk a little bit about the science of happiness but it turns out that the science of happiness made me a little bit anxious. For example, psychologist Dan Gilbert just wrote a book called Stumbling on Happiness

In it, he says that a lot of the really big things that can happen in your life don’t really have that much of an impact on your long-term happiness. Getting sick, not getting sick, getting a promotion, not getting a promotion, having your penis fall off, not having your penis fall off… it doesn’t really matter in the long term!

Gilbert says that your brain has the ability to synthesize happiness to bring you back up to your baseline regardless of the circumstance that you find yourself in. And the synthesized happiness is just as real as happiness created by external circumstance!

And that’s why people who spend decades in jail after being wrongly convicted say things like “It was the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Or why Pete Best, the drummer who got kicked out of The Beatles, said that that was one of the best things that happened to him.

According to Gilbert, they’re not bullshitting! They’re actually happy!


Sounds pretty cool, right? There’s one catch. It’s called choice.

We live in a society that places a high value on being able to make choices. All the different kinds of tomato sauce… those badass buffets at Friday’s… and no arranged marriages.

We agonize about the choices we make and simultaneously hold on to the ability to choose for as long as possible. Things on “final sale” or “the point of no return” kind of freak us out.

But Gilbert suggests that we’re pretty damn bad at predicting the degree to which things will make us happy.

Those shoes, that girl, that job. It’ll make you happy, but probably not as happy as you think.


But the reverse is also true! The things you worry are going to devastate you aren’t going to be that bad. Those shoes, that girl, that job. The actual decision that you make doesn’t really matter to the degree that you think it does.

But the stress and anxiety that you feel when you think that you have a choice does matter. It makes you less happy.


It appears that you’re best at getting back to your baseline happiness when you’re stuck in a given circumstance. The perception of having a choice interferes with that synthesized happiness.

So in the long run, you’ll more likely be happy with that pair of shoes you got stuck with in a final sale than you will be with that pair of shoes that you have thirty days to exchange.


It seems like the best thing that you can do is just keep moving forward. Make a choice, and stick with it. Don’t keep the other catalogues around after you buy that car. And toss the receipt on those pair of shoes.

In the long run, it’ll work out.”

-Zefrank

Also, that is a fantastic book.  Get it, or ask me and I might let you borrow it.

Oh, I will be. I’ll be squad leader!

So I really miss two summers ago.

Laying around in the grass at KFC/T-Bell with Tim, Bethany and Louie.  And laying around on the couches in FLCC taking pictures of random men talking on their cell phones and sleeping on couches.

That’s really all I’ve got today.

I killed the robots and I’m sorry.

I really want grilled cheese right now.

And yea, that’s a weird thing to crave, considering it’s just buttery toast with cheese melted inside.  I really want to try it with bacon, onions and a tomato inside of it.  Someone make me that this instant!

Man, what else could you do with grilled cheese?  And don’t say dip it in tomato soup, because that’s fucking disgusting…asshole.

Rabble rabble rabble.

I wish, at some point in my life, that I could say that I posted the most offensive item on the Internet.

Now wouldn’t that kick a little ass?

It would.

I had a Tom Collins today.  If you don’t know what that is, google that shit.  It kind of reminds me of banana runts, only it doesn’t taste like dog dick.  A drunk man bought it for me, he was kind of old.  Not old enough where he needed to wear diapers but still old enough to where it’s kind of creepy that he bought a 22 year old male an alcoholic beverage.  But who’s going to turn down free alcohol?

I’m not, that’s for sure.

Snip snap.

Whoever invented chocolate milk is a fucking genius and should be accepted into the “Fucking Genius Hall of Fame.”  And if there isn’t such a place, there should be.

Make it.

I command it.

Although, I’m not really sure if chocolate milk can be called an invention.  Can you invent food?

Regardless, I want to know the thought process behind the invention of food concoctions.  Simple ones.  Chocolate milk for example.  Was someone sitting there and was like, “Oh fuck! I spilled my chocolate syrup that I randomly carry around with me into my milk.  But wait! This is really good.”  Or was it more of a “Hey, chocolate is awesome, and milk isn’t too bad.  What if they had a love child?”

Now I’m wondering what mixes we are missing out on.  There are foods that are yet to be discovered that will grope your taste buds, in a good way!

Subtle change of topic.

The Internet has got to be one of the worst inventions ever.  Giving people like me the ability to openly discuss my opinions with the world.  That’s brilliant.  I guess the things I say aren’t as bad (or awkward) as others though, and for every second I spend writing this is one less second I’m watching some slut blow a goat for fifty bucks.  Or maybe that’s the beauty of the Internet.  Knowing that whatever you say or do, someone has said or done something a lot worse than that, and you can view it all in the safety of your own home sitting in your boxers at four in the morning, eating Doritos and watching cartoons.  Or YouTube.  Or midget porn.  Or girls having sex with animals.  Or guys having sex with animals.  Whichever you’re into, I won’t judge you. And even if I did, you could just say “shut the fuck up faggot, go kill yourself” and I couldn’t do anything about it other than respond with a “no u.”

It was a half-and-half, first of all.

As time rolls by…

I wonder why…

I felt inclined to try.