sometimes i worry that i'm a pessimist. or i worry that i get down on myself too much. or maybe i just have a rotten attitude about things. but then sometimes, at 10 am on a tuesday-day-off, i decide to cook these frozen boneless buffallo wings that actually just look like little red meatballs. and while they're cooking, i decide to leave the house with the oven on so i can run to the market to get a mexican coke. and along the way i see a homeless man pooping by a bush. and i get back to the apartment and the timer has already gone off and my roommate looks concerned. and i think, "i bet a lot of people my age would think of this as a pretty pathetic morning," but not me. i feel great because this morning is hilarious. and then i realize, "see, i'm a happy guy!"
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