Dear Facebook Diary,
Today was my birthday and I have no funny stories to tell. So instead I will spew out a few random beliefs that I personally hold and might be unpopular. I was going to crap out several of these opinions, but I am now realizing how agonizingly tired I am. Yeah, I just stopped typing for a minute and went into my kitchen and took two Benadryl. I might be sawing logs before I finish typing this nonsense.
The first is a small one. I began the daylong celebration of my birth by doing something that I used to do on a regular basis but my life has gotten so wild and crazy that I have been unable to find the time to do it in over four years, and I haven’t missed it at all. I went to the dentist. For starters, I think that it is absolute bullshit that nearly everyone in America believes the lie that they must see the dentist every six months. And why do we have to see the dentist every six months? Because fucking dentists tell us that we do. That’s like buying a new car every two years because the car dealers tell us that we have to. Also, unless I am experiencing pain or I see something wrong in my mouth, I am supposed to believe the dentist when he says that I need to spend a few thousand dollars on fillings or some other weird procedure that he probably made up on the spot with little to no proof. Who knows, maybe dentists are really good at improvisation and they’re just winging it the whole time. They tell you something’s wrong, they pry your mouth open, then drill some holes, fill the holes with something, pull out some teeth, replace the teeth, and then charge you or your insurance dumb shit amounts of money for it. I’m just lying there with my mouth splayed open and full of mini mirrors and tubes and fluoride, and I am supposed to take the dentist’s word for it that there is something wrong in my mouth even though I’ve never noticed it before.
Now one reason that I do need to get my teeth checked now and then is because my jaw was badly broken in 1999, and they used a now newly discovered steel and hybrid scientific fibers to reconstruct the lower half of my face. Although my jaw was broken in 1999, the metal that the scientists used to rebuild my mandible wasn’t even invented until 2006, and time travel won’t be invented until 2082. So either a specialized time traveling agent sent the metal back in time or maybe in the alternate universe where my jaw was improperly fixed for decades I dedicated my life to and eventually succeeded at inventing time travel for the soul purpose of sending this advanced metal back in time to save the dashing facial aesthetics of my younger self. So anyway, the dental assistant cleaned the stalagmites and barnacles from my teeth, the dentist looked at them, he told me that my teeth and gums were fine, and then he scolded me about how I need to come in every six months. Flippin’ shits, I think the health of your teeth has more to do with what you eat rather than how often you clean them. I’ve seen pictures in National Geographic of human skulls from people that lived thousands of years ago and although toothpaste and floss wasn’t invented or even considered as being needed back then, those ancient skulls still had their damn teeth. So there’s some bullshit and Tom Foolery going on in the dental industry because according to fossils, it may not even be needed. The only real evidence that dentists have to prove their worth is when Tom Hanks was reduced to knocking out his rotten tooth with a rock in the movie “Cast Away”. But even then, Tom Hanks managed to flourish on a tropical island for several years without the biannual checkups with a dentist.
Another one of my strange beliefs is that I do not believe that everyone has a one true love. I acquired this belief after having fallen into and out of love a few times, and seeing other people find their soul mate only to eventually ditch the bitch for a new supposed soul mate. Believing that there is that one special person in the world that is only meant for you, your counterpart, your soul mate, is bullshit. It is an almost religious like belief held amongst everyone that I know; even diehard atheists will hold this magical idea that there is this one special person that was born with the only purpose of hooking up with them forever. Lovey-dovey dating or married dick farts will tell me that I have this belief because I haven’t found my soul mate yet and I tell them that they are partially correct. Although I do not believe that there is a special one, I believe that there are special ones. There are certain people that mesh well with you and they are prime relationship material due to them having similar interests and beliefs, but it’s nothing mystical or heavenly. You are lucky to find one of these primary matches, and if you fall in love then it is something special, but if your soul mate should cheat on your or take a dirt nap before you do, you can still meet another soul mate. And if you are under the age of twenty-two and you genuinely believe that your are currently with your soul mate, then congratulations, but keep your eyes open while you kiss so you can spot that new love of your life because there’s a pretty good chance that your current fling isn’t going to last. Love is good for you and you shouldn’t save it while you go through the lifelong search for your imaginary soul mate. There are lots of people that share your same interests and these are the people that you should share your peen or vajeen with as well; marriage is also good for you but it is still optional.
The hell with this shit, I’m going to bed now. I am combatting the rising heat crisis in my underground sweat lodge by leaving a few of the ground level windows completely open all day and night and I have fans strewed about in an organized fashion to create an inhaling and exhaling effect with my apartment playing the part of the lungs. The windows are large enough for any wild animal or moderately sized human being to crawl through, and although I am fearful of a cat or an opossum crawling in while I am asleep, I am also hoping for it. I would enjoy having the opportunity to break up this monotony of paying bills and buying material shit that I don’t even need and instead battling a beast that comes from a world of survival, a world where money and friendship have no value, a world of kill or be killed. My apartment now feels very outdoorsy and I enjoy the fresh airflow and the natural stink, but I fall asleep attentively listening for the pitter-patter of little feet scurrying through my dwelling, so I can jump out and terminate the vital processes of the four-footed foe that stepped into my fucking turf. I would smash the shit out of the little bastard with a dumbbell and then before he died I would skin him and slowly remove his entrails with a kitchen knife. Then I would place the mangled carrion upon the doorstep of the car seat sniffing mud flaps that live upstairs, using the blood and fluids of the carcass to draw a pentagram and the word ‘REDRUM’ on their door. And then I would return to my bedroom to fall asleep to the sounds of my own laughter.