From the Desk

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“It’s final weekend of summer,” says everyone who doesn’t realize that September is just a cooler, less disgusting month of August and the official start of Fall doesn’t begin for another three weeks. These are the same people who post all-caps on Facebook “SOMEONE WAKE UP GREEN DAY” on October 1.

They also share the same GIF of a dude wearing an all-black bodysuit wearing a pumpkin mask, dancing about with the caption of “Me on October 1.”

“Oh em gee, this is legit me, tho.”

People think I hate my life. That’s incorrect. I just hate everyone in my life.

Remember Green Day?

Green Day used to be MY band back in 8th grade. Those handful of songs I listened off the only album I cared to listen to were the playlist of 2005. Did I understand that Wake Me Up When September Ends was about the death of Billie Joel Armstrong’s father, and his life since moving on from the traumatic experience of losing his father?

Not at all. But the band helped me through the emotional hardships faced as an increasingly sweaty teen; like when my girlfriend of 1-month broke up with me through email during my freshman year.

I appreciate the fact that even as a 14 year-old, she kept it professional.

What was my reply to this virtual mercy killing?

I emailed back the main chorus of Green Day’s Time of Your Life for some reason. More than a decade later, I realize that was probably not the best choice. Hindsight: ideas that begin with, ‘This will win her back’ are always bad.

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Young Tim sucked so hard

Just look at this dummy.

I wore those aviator shades all summer during 2005 and thought they would make up for the fact that I wore cargo shorts and wrinkled collard shirts.

“Who is that young boy wearing white, New Balance dad shoes?”

“I don’t know, but look at those shades! He probably doesn’t have a curfew or get broken up with through his high school email account.”

I can’t believe you did that to me, Ashley. But I can’t stay mad at you. I really hope you had the time of your life. Come back to me, please.

I know too many people

Having friends is great. They help you when you’re down. They listen to you vent. But then they always want something from you, like your free time.

Sorry, but that time is reserved for watching back-to-back documentaries about Jonbenet Ramsey.

JonBenet Ramsey’s parents definitely killed her

How is this even up for debate right now? How the hell is this not a slam dunk conviction?

What parent sees their daughter’s murdered body and thinks, oh jeez, I better destroy all the evidence? Also, I just now realized that JonBenet’s father’s name is John Bennett. That’s pretty weird. Not as weird as desecrating a murder scene, but still pretty weird that a guy just combined his first and middle name for his daughter.

I need to watch new crime dramas

Netflix needs to find another hoosier in the Midwest who probably murdered a photographer and do a documentary on them because I am so bored. I have watched all the seasons of The Office 48 times this summer. I don’t mind working up to an even 60, but Netflix better get their camera crew to the nearest small town and randomly point to a name on the the sheriff’s list of “trouble makers.”

On a side note, Steven Avery is the most innocent looking murderer I’ve ever seen. He’s like a short, tubby baby who is capable of brutally murdering a stranger. You just want to root for the guy, you know? Up until you remember, oh yeah, he definitely murdered someone.

Wedding season is finally over

I don’t mind getting drunk and pigging out on chicken, twice-baked potatoes, and cake, but after doing that twice-a-month all summer I want to kill myself.

I’ve gained 15 pounds and a taste aversion to white wine. I look forward to not downing half a bottle of TUMS the following Sunday.

Last weekend I had to go as a plus one to an out-of-town wedding. I spent the days prior trying to convince my girlfriend that she and the bride are not close friends so it wouldn’t matter if we skipped her wedding.

“We were best friends in college.”

“Okay, but she and I were not so why do I have to go?”

“You’re my plus one.”

“You and I aren’t even that close.”

Closing thoughts

Fantasy football is back and I cannot wait to declare myself the winner of a nonexistent rivalry between me and whoever I’m playing in my league. I send a Facebook message, text, or email to my opponent each week, destroy them with clever, well-thought-out blows to their character and dead grandparents, and cap it all off about how no one loves them or will miss them when they, too, die.

TO: clark15@gmail.com

FROM: timgodfrey@gmail.com

No one will remember your loss to me because it will be insignificant, like your existence. You are the IT guy at PetCo. Do you know how many people use computers at PetCo? It’s the same amount of grandparents you have: ZERO! You will die from a heart attack next to your wife who was wanting to divorce you but didn’t want to do it while you were in the hospital.

Up yours.
Tim

TO: timgodfrey@gmail.com

FROM: clark25@gmail.com

Tim

Just wanted to remind you that I am clark25@gmail. Clark15 is my dad. He did not appreciate the grandparent comment. He would appreciate if you did not come to grandma’s wake this week.

Please remember to RSVP to my wedding by the 30th.

Thanks
Clark

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