My favorites, Nostalgia

Why describing shit seems like a lot of work

I’m the kind of guy that washes my hair everyday, but might not put on clean underwear.

In my spare time (aka: all the time) I’ve been finding it fun to come up with simple sentences that describe me in the fullest of detail. It’s cheating to use run-ons; the idea is to convey one thought that can simply yet fully illustrate who I am.

There were seven rooms to choose between to edit my video in – each was named after a sin. I chose “Sloth” because I thought it appropriate and funny.

Sometimes it can be more than one sentence. That’s also fun. When I wake up, sometimes I just stay laying, my eyes following the curves of the stucco ceiling and think of these sentences. This entertains me. This keeps me going.

I will always choose the flavor that combines the most amount of other flavors, whether it be smoothie, yogurt, pie, or some other delicious fruit-flavored-food.

Usually after a couple brilliant nuggets of description I get bored with myself. But not with the game. So I move on to others. I might describe other people I know, or maybe I’ll come up with new people whose characters can be easily summed up into one little box of English.

He was the type of guy who would untie his shoelaces and retie them two or three times a year – for a funeral or wedding or something.

These sentences allow me freedom. A freedom I do not have when describing myself. I do not have this freedom when I use myself as the subject because I have a character that I must remain consistent to – a person whose ins and outs I know so well, that I refuse to even offer the implication of some metaphor of something that could be untrue. Also I can’t be too cocky for fear of coming off dickish (to the audience in my head), and because I think so highly of myself, I can’t be too self-deprecating. So I create sentences about others.

He would buy two $100 yellow trench coats in the middle of summer yet forget to pay his rent.

There were times when she would take a shower just to have a quiet place to talk to herself.

He ordered his steak rare even though he liked it well done because he thought that that was what was expected of him.

Every time she put on make up – every other month – she would put on way too much purposely, psych herself up to act like a slutty aristocrat, then as she opened her door, she would run back inside to wipe herself down.

He crosses the street not at crosswalks, but rather when he will have to wait the least amount of time to cross.

He wore an expensive suit everyday because he liked the way it looked, but tried to hide the fact that he was wealthy.

Her button nose frustrated her, not because she didn’t like the way it looked – quite the opposite – but rather because the phrase “button nose” seemed to imply something about her character that was untrue.

He watched Lost religiously, but would read a chapter of Voltaire or Camus afterward in order to not feel guilty.

She wished she were ethnically ambiguous so that she would have an icebreaker at parties.

Though he smoked a lot of pot, he made rules about it: He wasn’t allowed to smoke until he made something that wasn’t meant for smoking out of into something that could be smoked out of.

She still thought it would be funny to go into Jimmy Johns asking for free smells, but refused to do it because she realized it wasn’t funny.

The problem I realize with my blurbs of character are that they are only people I like. They always describe someone who is flawed in a way I find endearing. (So, realize I like you – people who found sentences about them) So lately I’ve been trying to come up with picture-sentences (I call them that because they are like sentences that are worth 1,000 words) that describe someone I don’t like – someone who I would not like to hang out with on a porch.

He only recycled when people were watching.

She loved Lord of the Rings because she thought it would help her sleep with nerds.

His favorite TV show was “According to Jim.”

What I realized is that I kept getting more depressed and angry when I described these sacks of ickyness and I got bursts of energy when I would think of characters described by endearing flaws. I guess I’m just the kind of guy who needs people who he likes surrounding him, but sometimes those people come from his head.

That wrapped up nicely, didn’t it? Cool little cycle I did? Huh? Yeah? Next entry I’m planning on responding to all these blog entries I’ve been seeing that give you lists of meals for less than $5 or meals for less than $1 or whatever. Mine’s gonna be meals for less than $1 and less than 5 minutes. Because really, who plans ahead enough to think of when they’ll be hungry? I sure don’t!


8 thoughts on “Why describing shit seems like a lot of work

  1. h2money says:

    If anyone wants me to come up with a sentence about them, or wants to come up with a sentence about me, or wants to come up with a sentence that describes someone else, post here. I love to play this game.

  2. dylan macturk says:

    even though he was by all acounts a pussy, he never once acted like a cunt.

    *my description of Ghandi

    • h2money says:

      Famous people. I like it.
      Other interesting fact about Ghandi: Huge racist and sexist. Just thought you should know. Still did some good shit though.

  3. Syreeta says:

    Was the slutty aristocrat one about me? Because that describes my Founders Day plans perfectly.

  4. grace says:

    I know who the trench coats is about.

    And I don’t know if the shower is about me, but it totally describes me. Also crosswalks, except I’m not a “he.”

    if there isn’t a blurb about me does that mean you don’t like me?

    • h2money says:

      Though she truly did love Oscar Wilde, there were times when she doubted his genius. She never spoke of those times for fear of being a liar.

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