Off-Topic Off Day
It's Independence Day. A day for free-spirited, drunken debauchery. It's my favorite holiday. A holiday where I don't have to buy a gift for anyone. A holiday where I don't have to hug people. It's just a a day where I can just drink and drink and drink.
And even before I evolved into a binge-drinking baffoon, July 4th was always my favorite. Blowing stuff up and playing with matches was actually encouraged by my family back in the day. We'd drive out to the desert, shoot bottle rockets at each other and aim our Roman Candles at complete strangers. Ahhhh, those were the days.
However, this year I don't feel like a free man. I don't think I could genuinely celebrate MY independence. I've been in incarcerated...er... married for one year, eight months and 16 days. In this time, I've come to notice that I am no longer a free man. I'm a slave. A slave named Toby.
Every day of this slave's life has been carefully planned out by his massa'.
7:00 a.m. - Let the dog out.
7:05 a.m. - Pick up dog shit.
7:10 a.m. - Water the lawn (even though the sprinker system goes off every night, Toby must water by hand every morning).
7:45 a.m. - I'm finally allowed to piss.
7:55 a.m. - Enjoy a bowl of cereal and Silk (Toby is no longer allowed to drink cow's milk).
You get the point.
Every once in a while I get some sex. So I guess it's not all that bad. But today, when people are thanking Uncle Sam for their freedom, I'll be asking massa' if it's okay for me to have another beer. Another light beer, of course.
And even before I evolved into a binge-drinking baffoon, July 4th was always my favorite. Blowing stuff up and playing with matches was actually encouraged by my family back in the day. We'd drive out to the desert, shoot bottle rockets at each other and aim our Roman Candles at complete strangers. Ahhhh, those were the days.
However, this year I don't feel like a free man. I don't think I could genuinely celebrate MY independence. I've been in incarcerated...er... married for one year, eight months and 16 days. In this time, I've come to notice that I am no longer a free man. I'm a slave. A slave named Toby.
Every day of this slave's life has been carefully planned out by his massa'.
7:00 a.m. - Let the dog out.
7:05 a.m. - Pick up dog shit.
7:10 a.m. - Water the lawn (even though the sprinker system goes off every night, Toby must water by hand every morning).
7:45 a.m. - I'm finally allowed to piss.
7:55 a.m. - Enjoy a bowl of cereal and Silk (Toby is no longer allowed to drink cow's milk).
You get the point.
Every once in a while I get some sex. So I guess it's not all that bad. But today, when people are thanking Uncle Sam for their freedom, I'll be asking massa' if it's okay for me to have another beer. Another light beer, of course.
posted by Roman at 2:06 AM
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