So many fucks.

I should be studying right now, but I don't want to.

I always seem to get sucked into deep thought in traffic jams, there's something somewhat inspiring and calming about being surrounded by angry motorists. Today, while sitting in ridiculous 401 traffic with my sidekick super dog Atticus, I had a few startling revelations...

Today's Revelations

1. I am in love with Regina Spektor. She's not stupid hot or anything, modestly pretty at best, but something about her voice, it's absurdly attractive. 
2. It is very embarrassing to be a guy sitting in traffic listening to Regina Spektor with your windows open. People look at you differently, to say the least. 
3. My dog also enjoys Regina Spektor, possibly more than I do. She's in love. We're eventually going to have to battle for Regina's love, and only one of us will live to blog about it. Hopefully it's me because Atticus cannot spell, and she also does not have fingers.

Or a penis. Major advantage for me. 

Finally, I realized that over the past few months, I have completely rid myself of road rage. I have also brought myself down from an "8" to a "4" on the "Danger to others while angry" scale. This is really the only true revelation I had, as I already knew my love for Ms. Spektor existed, and always suspected Atticus of being my primary competition.

To build further on this, most people who knew me a year ago, know I was a bit of a stress-ball. I had a short fuse, and my kryptonite was stupid drivers, and ignorant people. Also, Kryptonite. They'd always set me into an uncontrollable rage, and I'd end up huge and green and half naked. I'd also go through clothes really quickly.

So what happened? Well, I'm not entirely sure, but I speculate it's because I threw away all of my fucks. What's a fuck you ask? It's difficult to explain, so I'll use this clever analogy I literally just thought of:

Imagine me holding a basket of muffins. Blueberry ones. Those are all of my fucks. Now, when something annoying or bad would happen, I would give one of my fucks away. This displeased me greatly. Now imagine me throwing that basket of muffins into the forest, and a bunch of hungry forest critters eating them all. Maybe some of them got left behind and went all mouldy and gross. Who knows, who cares.

That's what happened. I fed my fucks to forest critters, and now I have no fucks to give. Make sense? Too bad. 

Anyways, my point is I simply don't give a fuck about stupid drivers anymore. Mind you, I still mutter threats under my breath (or loudly if someone else is in the car, because it's sort of funny) and I still admit that if I ever develop kinetic powers, I'd use them to explode the colostomy bags of slow elderly drivers in front of me. That'd be awesome. 

"I don't know what happened! One minute Grandma was doing 85 in the fast lane, and the next thing I know, everything was covered in shit!"

The other advantage of this, is that being so high strung would have probably taken an easy 10 years off of my life. Combined with that time I ate a giant box of lucky charms in 48 hours to see what color it would make my poop (green, FYI), I'm sure my life expectancy would have been 30. Meet the calmer, gentler, longer living Mike Ross. 

That's all I've got.

Written while listening to this.