Dantrums

Thanksgiving was excellent. As usual. I love all my friends, I love them. I like my friends' new girlfriends. Good choices. Way to pick 'em. I've seen one of you do much worse. The one with the funny name and teeth. You know who I mean.

Peyton Manning is possibly the most exciting athlete I have ever watched. He's more exciting to me than Jordan because I don't like basketball as much as football. He's more exciting than any hitter in baseball can ever hope to be because he is on the field so often. He is more exciting than any pitcher because pitchers throw to leather mitts as opposed to hurtling men decked out in body armor. Manning gives me the feeling I have when David Ortiz is at bat: Something huge is about to happen. And, sorry to add, but he is so fucking cute it's ridiculous. The smashed nose makes him even better. That commercial where he chants "D- Caff!" in the diner--- is that some fucking acting or what! In interviews he is engaging yet humble, a pigskin Abe Lincoln. I know what certain people reading this are thinking. Most of you are Pat fans and claim to hate him for football reasons, but the facts, my friends, are otherwise. In your tragic hetero-repressed brain you want to fuck him and feel guilty for it. Therefore you turn that guilt into hatred and focus it externally at the man himself. It's like PJ Harvey said: "Shame Shame Shame/Shame is the shadow of love."

I had my first day of real work in a while today at Indigo restuarant in Needham. I have only one thing to say: Real work is for suckers. I'm not being cheeky. I mean it. I'm not talking about a job you like. I've had jobs I really liked. But if it feels like work, get out while the getting is good, unless you're broke. And I, sadly, am broke. One thing the nice waitress who trained me said got me thinking. She was telling me how late the obscene amount of sidework kept her at the restaurant and how many shifts she had to work, but that since she was going to be moving to the west coast and was now saving so much money, "I sort of don't mind not having a life." I wondered for a moment whether that was sort of noble. The answer, I guess, is that there has to be a happy medium between work and play. I have trouble finding my happy mediums lately, but I know I could never say "I sort of don't mind not having a life" and mean it.