You Don't Want No Problems

First of all, I should say that one of my unwritten rules to myself was to not write two somber blogs in a row. I'm breaking that rule today. In the process, I will try not to break my rule of no profanity (Mama might be reading).
Okay, I think I might need a break from humanity. I just don't have the energy for this bullcrap now. Last night, for instance. I was on the phone with some friends. I made one disparaging remark (okay, several with expletives) about a famous African-American talk show host that has a freaking cult following and has more commitment issues than an indecisive trapese artist (Me make funny...heh). All of a sudden I have to defend my disdain for said former shacking-up TV cult show leader. I didn't even want to go through that crap! I was highly agitated. Of course, I am now the bad guy, I'm too sensitive, and now I need to "man up", as one of my friends say. Well, guess what?

Screw That!

(Technically, that 's not cursing, Mom)

I don't feel like defending freaking points at 11:45 at night. During down time, I don't feel like no stinking debates (Still not cursing). I have no problem defending my view during serious matters, or physically defending myself. I just don't feel like I have to defend myself over trivial crap like, oh, say, my opinion of a totally screwed-up condescending talk show host that spawned another fat, balding blowhard touchy-feely doctor. I don't believe that life is some freakin' debate. I'm not Kirk Cameron in Say Anything, which is a very cheesy 80's movie (my specialty) about debates. People don't understand that I work in a place that I lovingly call Confrontation Central. I won't name it because, hey, I've gotta save something for my memoirs.

After that, I don't feel like any more "healthy, spirited discussion". If that makes me weird or different from everybody else, then cool. I never wanted to be average anyway. I am weird, maybe a little bit crazy. I'm still humorous, and I'm nice at karaoke (see yesterday's entry). I won't defend that, either. It's probably my ego, but I equate explaining with having to come down to other people's level. Guess what? I'm not other people, I'm Markus Seaberry. Also, I am a man because I handle my business, take care of my responsibility, and pay my bills (Anybody who starts humming that godawful Destiny's Child song, stand in the corner).

And I've just got one thing to say...okay, type, for those who doubt my manhood, say I'm too defensive, too sensitive, and am a little bit crazy, my response is this:

AHEM!

1. Find a quarter

2. Call someone who gives a flying rat's...fanny.

Honestly, I'm tired of playing by all these stinking unwritten rules. I'm one Publisher's Clearing House check away from withdrawing from humanity. Be Easy...or not, who gives a flying...flip.

P.S. For all those who thought I would curse, Hah! My vocabulary's nice, yo! (said with arms folded in a b-boy stance)