I read a funny thing on a wall a little while ago, it was sort of a dialogue of giant genuises. First it said "Psych Rocks" which I'm assuming means psychology rocks more than its competitors could ever even hope to rock.
Underneath this was the word "fag" with an arrow pointing to "psych rocks".
Finally, underneath this is the scribbled text "accounting rules".
Now that's a bold statement.
What could accounting possibly rule over? Insurance sales? Who would ever in their life say that accounting rules? Its just not the kind of thing that rules, its the kind of thing that totally sucks, but you have to have around just to prevent worse things from happening. Accounting is like hemerroid surgery, you may need it, but you certainly don't want it.
This poor confused loser who wrote accounting rules is gonna find out fast that when you tell chicks your an accountant, the first thing that crosses their mind is "dynamite between the sheets". He suffers from the same problem most people suffer from, the need for self definition by comparison.
He is sad and boring, but he needs to define himself, belong to a group and use that as the basis of comparison of himself to all the other humans. Everyone does it, nazi's, lacrosse teams, volkswagen drivers. The center of our wacky ego's is this instinct for self definition by abstract properties. I'm a punk, I'm a prep, I'm a vampire. But the heart of it all is just a way to simplify yourself to others. You choose an identity so people can match you with the traits they assume go along with it.
Okay so whatever, that's life, its how we are, who gives a fuck? I just can't believe anyone would choose the identity of accountant and not understand that part in parcel of that is to not rule. Its just the contradiction of it that bugs me.
So what defines me? How do I live, what do I say, eat and wear? I live in a stinking cubbyhole under a house, my kitchen is a giant garbage can of empty fast food bags. I'm surrounded by millions of little scraps of paper with meaningless sentence fragments scribbled on them like "dog + sunglasses = funny".
Along one wall is a teetering stack of empty beer cases reminiscent of stonehenge. It was probably assembled much in the same way the druids built their stonehenge, drunk and pantsless.
My bathroom looks and smells like an outhouse. The shower looks like it was ripped out of motorhome and nailed to the floor.
I've never been happier in my life, if I could live anywhere other than here it would be in a fire gutted police station or courthouse, I just like that for some reason.
You know why, cause I'm not where I live, or what I wear, you are not what you eat. I'm an arrogant, boring, self indulgent jerk. But I'm not an accountant, or a lacrosse player, or a volkswagen driver, I'm an asshole, so put that in your pipe and smoke it accounting guy, we all hate you anyway.