5.1% 500 mL bottle
Procrastination is. Procrastination is. Procrastination is…Oh, fuck it.
I wasted Saturday but what’s the big deal, that’s what Saturday’s for. And is viewing movies all morning, watching college football all day, drinking all night, and canoodling into the wee hours really that big of “waste”?! What purpose is life if not to occasionally give me mindless pleasure? OK, then let’s not say I wasted Saturday, let’s say I was just less-than-productive Saturday. But, today, today will not be a waste. Today you will be productive, Aaron.
Alarm set for 8:00. Only 4 hours of sleep, that’s fine, remember I’m getting stuff done today. But first, I’m going to lay in bed for a bit. It is really early. I won’t sleep though, I’ll use this time to casually plan my day out. What would I like to do, today? Hmmmm…gotta write. That’s number one. Real writing though, not my blog, not any of my scripts, but my novel. I figured I’d already be done with it by November. So I’ll do that. At least five solid pages. No, ten, I can do ten. Ten if I’m really cooking. What else? I should market my blog better. The visitor numbers are getting way up there, but they could be stronger. And it’s fun to do any how. But I gotta promise myself that once I get online, I can’t dick around. No reading sports message boards. No reading beer reviews, favorite personal blogs, movie buzz websites, ordering shit on amazon, Facebooking, porn. None of that. I’ll only go online to do legit work. And, check my e-mail. Need to do that too. NFL’s allowed to be on while I work, but muted, in the background, and I can’t really pay attention. If I work real hard I’ll day, if I’m productive, my reward will be to watch the 2nd half of Eagle/Giants at night. I’m gonna eat healthy today too. Had a gluttonous weekend. Better jog as well. The rain yesterday prevented me. Quit bullshitting. Yes, it did prevent you, indeed, but it was more of a bail-out. You weren’t going to run even if the weather was pristine. You just didn’t have it in you. The weather looks nice out today, better go for at least five solid miles. No, ten, I can do ten.
Ah, I drifted off. 9:30 now. Not bad. That’s hours before I usually arise on Sunday. Better get some coffee down my gullet to jump start me. Turn my engine over. Fuck, the line at Dunkin is long. That Indian bitch is so slow on the register. Why must she ask instead of being told? The guy said an onion bagel and a large coffee. How fucking simply is that?! And she says, “Toasted? Butter? Cream cheese? Cut in half? Iced or hot? With milk? Cream? Skim? Sugar? Equal? Splenda?” Such a time waster. Just use what he directly tells you. Just use the popular defaults. Actually, a bagel does sound pretty good. That’s not that unhealthy. I’ll get lite cream cheese. And those 99 cent mini-hash browns look pretty hot too. Ouch, 180 calories. I hate how calories now must be advertised. Whatever, it’s Sunday, I’m allowed a little decadence. My turn, that only wasted five minutes. Here’s how you order, bitch, “Multigrain bagel, untoasted, lite cream cheese, cut in half, mini-hash browns, large coffee black, bag it, swipe my card, that. is. IT.” Breathe. “Any additional muffins or donut holes, sir?” Fucking bitch.
I’ll multitask, drink my coffee and eat my breakfast while I check my overnight e-mails, my blog traffic, my other business. Oh, hey, look who friended me on Facebook, haven’t thought of her in a decade at least. Man, she used to be so attrac—YOW! What happened?! Good lord! She was once so pretty and now she looks like she’s Eddie Murphy in latex playing a fat caricature of herself in a movie no one will ever watch but everyone will mock purely on the basis of its incredibly lame trailer. So sad. Oh, hey, she’s friends with that person too?! Didn’t even know he was on Facebook. Shit, he’s friends with like forty people I know that aren’t friends with me. What the fuck?! I’m starting to think I wasn’t as well-liked in high school as I believed. Whatever, they all can suck my dick. I prefer NETWORK: NEW YORK, RELIGION: ATHEIST, RELATIONSHIP STATUS: SINGLE over…whatever the absolute opposite is of that, plus countless pictures of your ugly and fat kids in your photo section.
It’s too quiet, better put the TV on. But just as background noise. Find something at least halfway decent. Boy, they really do not put anything interesting on Sunday morning. Retarded and retired football players yelling at each other and laughing at non-jokes, retarded and worthless politicos yelling at each other and laughing at non-jokes, and…here we go, “Groundhog Day.” But, on TNT. Ugh, I hate watching movies with commercials. But, goddamn is “Groundhog Day” such a classic. I still remember going on a “date” to see it back at the mall when I was an 8th grader. I loved it then and I still love it today. Bill Murray’s best work. Yep, even better than “Rushmore,” “Royal Tennenbaums,” “Lost and Translation.” Or is it? Ooh, I’m gonna try to figure out my rankings for all-time Bill Murray performances, that’ll be fun. Ha, my favorite scene, the one where Bill Murray dupes Andie MacDowell by ordering the same drink as her. I’ll never forget her drink order: “sweet vermouth on the rocks with a twist.” How fucking weird. Who in the world drinks sweet vermouth as the only component of a cocktail? For a complimentary ingredient in a Manhattan, sure, of course. But as the main ingredient, fucking weird.
God I never get sick of “Groundhog Day.” I think that’s like the fiftieth time I’ve seen it. I should just admit it’s one of my favorite movies of all-time. What’s the big deal if it’s directed by Harold Ramis? What’s the big deal if it was a big budget studio movie? Sometimes they get it right. And this time they made a fucking unadulterated classic that will live on forever. That’s it, I’ll quit being a snobby cineaste. I’m changing the favorite movie section on my Facebook page, moving “Groundhog Day” into my Top 25 All-Time list. Hmmm…where should I slot it? Let’s think real hard about this. Yes. 22nd, between Woody’s “Manhattan” and Ingmar’s “Cries and Whispers” seems perfect. Nice. I see a few other changes I should make too. Why do I have “Clockwork Orange” so low? Better move that into my top 10. There, that works. In fact, that works vidi well, little brothers.
Shit, how’d it already become 1:00? The first games are about to start. I’m hungry too, that bagel wasn’t enough. Need some energy. Better order in. Save some time. I’ll relax, enjoy my food, watch the first half of the games, when they start boring me as NFL games are want to do, I’ll begin work on my novel. And, after the first game I’ll go jogging. First food. Seamless Web. Let’s see…I’d really like a club sandwich. Really got a hankering. Every since I saw Don get one last weekend at that “classy” sports bar, damn it looked tasty. One of those big motherfuckers. Triple decker they call it. Finger-sized white toast, lettuce, tomato, crisp bacon, turkey, slather of mayo, bread, repeat the aforementioned, bread, and a toothpick with a cellophane flag on it.
Seriously?! What the fuck? Not a single place in midtown has one of these to deliver to me?!! Unreal. When did I start living in Tulsa?! I could just order a turkey sandwich on toast, add bacon, and ask them to throw some toothpicks into the bag. Make it myself. Nope, it won’t be the same. I’ll just get a cheeseburger and some fries instead. Better make it a turkey burger, that’s healthier. Or, at least every one tells me it is, never really confirmed that.
Jesus, did that delivery guy take long enough. And he didn’t have a pen either. Goddamn idiot. The way I see it, a New York City deliveryman needs three things: a pen, an arm or hook to carry my food bag with, and something to locomote with. Sadly, they usually only have two of those three. Plus, an inability to figure out how to use a buzzer system correctly while also being bereft of the most basic ESL skills.
Food is soggy and gross. Totally unsatisfying and totally overpriced. And the 1:00 PM games suck too. That’s a good thing, though, I can start writing. But, I’m so tired, I’ve been up forever. I can’t stop yawning, I’m sluggish. Do some push-ups, get the blood flowing. One, two…OW. My shoulder is still sore from last night. Did I injure myself somehow? Drinking injury? I really can’t recall. I think I was doing too much hugging. Constantly putting your arm above some other man’s shoulder can give you muscle problems. Why do I get so huggy when I’m drunk?
I’ll chug some Diet Mountain Dew. That’ll give me energy to write. It worked! Feel like I just took a bump. Open my novel file on my laptop and here we…phone just vibrated. Don’t answer. You finally got energy to write, no need to get derailed. Oh, it’s a text. Can’t hurt to check:
“why is andy not playing?”
FUCK. I forgot Syracuse has an exhibition game today. Shit, get the game on. Phew, didn’t miss opening tip. It’s only an exhibition, I should try to do work during the game. Alas, I can’t. I’m too transfixed, even by sloppy, exhibition basketball.
Game over, it’s 4:00. Feels like 9:00 PM but it’s only 4:00. Shit that’s early. Still some daylight. Now, I’ll go running. And afterward, a quick shower, then time to write. Where the fuck are my running shoes? Dammit, I left them at Elisabeth’s place the other day. That’s fine, I’ll wear my back-ups, no excuses. Ipod isn’t charged, either. Again, no excuses. Ten miles. Ten fucking miles. I feel good, I feel good, I feel good, good lord!, it’s freezing out. It looks so nice from inside, sky blue and clear, but motherfuck is it chilly! I’ll just warm up for a second in the foyer, check my mail, forgot to check it yesterday. Nice! New Netflix. Can’t recall what was on my queue. Yes! I’ve been waiting for that one. You know, fuck running. It’s too cold. I’ll go watch this movie. But I’ll do sit-ups and push-ups while watching. Two hours straight of sit-ups and push-ups, now that’s a workout.
Musta dozed off. That movie was a lot more boring that I expected. Actually, no, I did expect it to suck. That’s why I didn’t see it in theaters. How come movies I avoid in theaters due to bad reviews I excitely order on Netflix and then–surprise, surprise–come to find out they suck just like I knew they did months previous? I’m such a sucker. Whatever the case, now it’s 6:00. And, I’m hungry again. What’s my problem? Why do I need to eat so much today? I’m not even burning calories that need to be replaced. I’ve barely sat erect today! I’m a glutton. A sloth. But I can’t deny I’m starving. I can’t order delivery two meals in a row, that’s pathetic. That’s just a few more delivery orders away from Lifetime doing a special on me, the fat guy that hasn’t left his house in a decade and needs a fire team and a crane to remove him from the premises. It’s times like these I wish I kept food in the house. Unfortunately, I don’t. Just beer.
I don’t really feel like putting on clothes but I’m starving. I smell bad too. I should probably shower. Fuck it, no gumption to even do that. At this late hour I’d even count that as having done something productive. I’ll just put out sweats. I look like such an asshole. Then again, everyone in my neighborhood looks like an asshole. I’m hungry but what do I want? Whatever’s closest, doesn’t matter, too cold to walk far. Thus, that would lead me to the prepared food counter at the D’Agostino’s across the street. And…it looks as if, by 7:30 on Sunday night, all they have left is one half rotisserie chicken. Good enough. It’s just sustenance. I’ll get some Golden Oreos too. Cannot stop eating those motherfuckers. I don’t even like cookies. Especially lard-ass Oreos. But the Golden boys are unbelievable. Why did it take a century for Nabisco to realize that simply reversing the chocolate and vanilla component of the iconic cookie would make it vastly superior? It was right under all of our noses, quite frankly. Genius.
Giants game’s about to start. I’ll only watch til my beloved GMen start to blow the Eagles out. Sure to happen. I hate to see my man, my former classmate, Donovan get whipped, but the Giants need to keep rolling. Motherfuck, three point game at half. Alright, a lot closer than I expected. NFC East bouts always are. I’ll just watch the game til it’s over. Actually, now I feel like a beer. Football and brews go hand in hand. What’s in my fridge?
Weihenstephaner Original Premium? Don’t even recall buying this one. Absolutely adored their hefeweizen, did I screw up and buy their lager? It should be good, still, I’d imagine. Yuck. Putrid stench. Smells like a Heiny. Skunky and macro. Tastes somewhat better though. Gotta say, it’s pretty solid for a boring lager, pretty solid compared to an American macro lager, but as a beer it’s pretty lackluster. I can only think the overwhelmingly good reviews online have to do with the famed country of origin and esteemed brewery of creation cause this one is nuttin’ special. Shit, even my beer was a waste today. Fuck. Am I gonna get anything out of my Sunday? Should I start going to church?!
Well, at least the Giants won. Another nice victory. But that doesn’t really benefit me. Doesn’t really make my day any more “productive.” And now it’s midnight. Sports take too long to watch. DVR hasn’t figured out a way to speed up our sports watching capabilities.
I guess I should just admit that after sixteen hours of anxiety, sixteen hours of determination, sixteen hours of goals, dreams, and wishes, I really didn’t do shit. Where did the time go? Unbelievable. Don’t beat yourself up. So, you didn’t seize the day. Big deal. I’ll get more work done tomorrow. I know it. Mondays have less distractions. Now I’m kinda buzzed. I want another beer, a nightcap, and then I’m gonna watch the abominable “Entourage” on HBO On-Demand.
It is absolutely breathtaking how you wasted an entire day, Aaron. At least you managed to write this.