Lots of Monkeys

How can I live in this country and enjoy its protection, freedom and excess–when ninety percent of the world lives in abject poverty? How can I have a clear conscience for enjoying that frappucino when its very cost represents the price of a month of AIDS medication in Somalia? For paying thirty dollars for an eight ounce steak when that grain that fed the cow could have fed dozens of households for a month? For worrying about how my clothes look? (Clothing, that no doubt was produced by children in said abject poverty?)

So much matters to me, yet matters not to the rest of the world. I worry about the tiniest, niggling things where there are people worrying about their next meal. In this country, no less. I complain about a hangover. People die for being a Palestinian, or an Israeli. I worry about rent. Somewhere in the world, there are people who felt that they had no other option than to fly two planes into two buildings. I claim an ethnicity that has nothing in common with me, other than blood.

The truth is, I try not to think about these things, and for now, it works. It works for a lot of people, not just me.

But I guess it can only work for so long.

I have not had a hard life. And I am thankful. But I’m not doing anything to give back–and that bothers me.

Yeah. Well, time to eat. Fortunately, I try to keep at least one frozen pizza in the fridge at all times for days like this when I really don’t want to leave the house. I’m surprised that my liver and brain aren’t trying to get back at me for trying to kill them last night.

So, I wake up this morning and go to help MC this culture show, right? It starts to rain so we have to change sites last minute. It ends up being a lot of stress, but then turns into a pretty good show. Afterwards, I go home and prepare for Astralweng’s “surprise” birthday party.

By “prepare” I mean take a shooter of triple sec. Pretty citrus-y. Then, it’s off to purchase ice and mixers after packing all the alcohol. Quix was quite the bartender once he got there. I think in the span of an hour and a half, I had approximately six drinks. All different liquors. I can tell my liver’s going to enjoy tonight. I start to worry because people start commenting on how much I’ve drunk. I feel fine.

Which is good because we leave early to watch “Scorpion King.” Which ended up being a fairly entertaining movie–but keep in mind, I was drunk at the time. Afterwards, we followed up with breakfast at the diner up the street. Now it’s time to sleep. Thankfully.

Why we use a German word for this distinctly Japanese event, I’ll never know.

But I’m responsible for the videogaming. This is the one time each year that I can really, truly “get my game on.”

For twenty-four hours.

I’m going to Disneyland!

Well, “World,” technically. And not right now. September. For a week. Rosie (the Rabbit) called and well, it just seemed like a damn good idea. Initially, we wanted to go about a year ago, but that fell apart. Here’s to September, and a week off! (Hopefully.)