Aw rats on the Nina T. thing... here I've been so impressed with her photographic memory and/or shorthand skills. Dang. I guess next you're going to tell me there's no Santa Claus, no Easter Bunny, and no Mr. Right for me. And that this night is the SAME as all other nights.
Emotional distance? No. Passive aggressive television addiction? Only to Gordon Ramsey's Kitchen Nightmares and reruns of Will & Grace. Mother worship? Definitely not, although we do talk on the phone from time to time. Chronic underemployment? Definitely YES! I do not want to be employed (gainfully) to my full potential. Yikes! Mustache grooming? Only when necessary. Explosive flatulence? Girls aren't allowed to do this. Didn't you see that episode of Sex and the City? We learn extreme muscular control at a very early age.
During my VERY brief brush with hydrocodone addiction, I experienced the pleasure... no: the JOY that comes from being a complete, brain-fogged, slug-a-bed, drooling, TV-watching, kumbaya, ex-flower-child slacker. It was a very happy time. Until I stopped taking it and the muscle twitching, brain zaps, and diarrhea set in. Sigh.
We can learn a lot from the slackers. Aren't you getting that idea from the Buddhist stuff you've been reading?
