Happy Endings

9781416950226

1416950222

THE GREATEST MOMENT OF MY LIFE It's odd how your value system slowly changes as you grow older. Time spent with family became something to look forward to and feel grateful for, as opposed to years ago when it felt like an irritating obligation. Is it because the older I get the more human my parents become? When their hair began turning gray, did I suddenly value their company more because I finally and tangibly understood that they're growing older and are someday going to die? Or maybe I just relate to them a bit more on an eye-to-eye level now that I'm older. And things that used to mean so much have kind of lost their value a bit. Watching sports is still enjoyable but the importance of my team winning and the agony of them losing have both softened into feelings almost indistinguishable from each other. It's a saddening realization that this softening is only a pit stop on the road to indifference. It's amazing that it took until this day, in my thirty-seventh year (God, that sounds so old) to have what I will consider from here on to be the greatest moment in my life. I've never tried to choose "the best moment," although I've had my share of amazing ones: meeting Richard Pryor; talking with Sam Kinison (and getting him to autograph a napkin, which I still have); performing at Madison Square Garden and for that fifteen minutes standing alone on the same stage where Sabbath, Kiss, and Zeppelin performed. There have been some incredible moments in my life, but after today they will fast become secondary memories. The day started out rather uneventfully; I woke up around 4:00 p.m. and popped in my contact lenses. I didn't realize that one of them was torn, so for an hour or so it felt like I had a kidney stone in my eye. I wound up sleeping so late because I didn't get to bed until around seven in the morning. After my midnight set at the Cellar last night, I stopped over at Bob Kelly's to play some cards. Bob lives on the fifth floor of my building, so it was a convenient place to socialize. Keith Robinson was there, as was Colin, Dane Cook, Bob, Matt Frost, and a comic from LA named Jay Davis. I shoveled chips and cheese and crackers and nuts into my fat face almost nonstop for three hours and in the end wound up winning a whopping sum of sixty-seven dollars. I came home and had one of my favorite working girls stop by for some late-night oral treats. She gave me head for about fifteen minutes until I shot Similac all over myself. It was an emotionally healthy ending to the day: gamble while compulsively eating shitty snack food, then pay another human being to hold my cock in her mouth like a pan flute. After she left and I had wiped the little fellers off my belly and deposited them into the toilet, I decided there was nothing else I could do to emotionally escape, so bed was probably the best option. Bob called this afternoon, after I had woken up, and we met at Starbucks. We each had the usual: a medium iced latte with soymilk. While we were sitting outside I had the itch to gamble a bit more. Bob is also a self-hating, compulsive idiot so he of course had the itch as well. We moseyed on up to his place to play a little one-on-one Texas Hold 'Em. While Bob was converting the cash into chips I was sitting there casually picking my belly button and sniffing it. I hadn't showered yet so it was nice and ripe, just the way I like it. I always try to get people to sniff my belly button but there are very rarely any takers. Vos has a similar and equally revolting odor emanating from behind his ear. If he scrapes back there he gets an oily substance on his finger that is actually visible if he rubs it on a table. We always tell people it smells like grape jelly and then try to guilt them into smelling it by telling them that everyone else has. The disgusted faces of all of the takers send us into gales of laughter. So anyway, today I was aimlessly digging and sniffing and I c