Just when I start thinking...
Just when I start thinking I’m something special, along comes someone to show me up.If I think my new car is something, along comes someone with a better one. I start to think my yard looks nice and I see some guy who has topiaries to rival Disneyland. I’m sure if I had a boat there would be one come along to make mine look bad.
Saturday morning I went out to get my paper and there on the front page of the Yukimoo Gazette is some nut case who has just set a Guinness record for skiing one thousand consecutive days. It showed a picture of him skiing at Mt. Hood’s Timberline Lodge Resort.
Who would think up such a stunt? Here is a guy who has no job, no wife and no children. He probably doesn’t even have a girlfriend. He’s probably too ugly.
The worst part is I probably saw him on the slopes when I was at Hood fulfilling my noble quest to ski in every month of the year. Had I known about him I would have been on the lookout. I could have had by goons whack his kneecaps, Nancy Kerrigan style.
Now I’m just depressed. Ordinary and depressed. I feel like retreating into my garage to smoke and drink and not come out for years but I hear there’s already some guy after that record.
posted by Yakimaniac at 9:15 PM
4 Comments:
Mr. Yak,
I just want to give some perspective that should get you back out of the garage.
First, your goal has far more meaning and creativity than that other guy. He obviously has no life. How boring would it be to go skiing for 1,000 straight days? On the other hand, you have to plan, synchronize your life, and make a real effort to accomplish your goal. This other guy doesn't have a life. It takes nothing for him to go skiing.
Second, you have a life that is full of significant friends and meaningful work. Skiing is not your life. Life is your life and you are accomplishing far more by reaching a goal in a hobby you love.
Third, you're OUR record setter and that should grant you a sense of significance that will allow you to hold your head up high and be proud!
You are so right! You are such an encouragement to me. How can I ever thank you?
Henceforth, you shall be my spiritual advisor. Mohamed Ali had his Bundini Brown and I have my Shiloh Dave. (Pending approval of the SC of course.)
On with the quest!
Shilohdude,
You paint a beautiful picture of my husband's meaningful and fulfilling life. It'll just be my little secret that he really has no life, no friends and only skis whenever he can to weasel out of yard work, but whatever!
Mrs. Yak
Regardless, you will never catch up with me. It's too late. As of now, the only competition I have for 'time spent in a garage' are two cars: One is in San Bernadino, California (Part of the "Inland Empire.) and is owned by a blind widdow named Gretchen Freeland. Her 1938 Willy's Knight has been parked in her garage since her husband, who did all the driving, died in a tragic Wheather Blimp explosion in England, days before he could have enjoyed a more noble death on the beaches of Normandy. The other car is in Ft. Meyers, Florida. I'm tied with this 1967 Merury Cougar which apparently has only been used once in an apparent suicide. As Lenny Bruce once might have said,
"All you have to do is wipe the lipstick off the exhaust pipe, and it will look like new!"
So, find some other record to break.
This one is mine to lose. I can taste it! (I'll admit, it may be an aquired taste, much like a carefully aged jar of pig urine.)
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