They call me successful because I tell people to waste their money and they waste it.
My son is what people call “unemployed.” During the day he chills out (accomplishes nothing) at his apartment, and at night he plays guitar in his band, sometimes eight shows a week. Crowds no larger than fifty, but most people walk out happy they’ve discovered the existence of The Mangy Rottweilers.
I made ten overpriced sales last week. Most people walked out happy they’d discovered the existence of sky control and seat coolers.
Last night, I reminded him about the open front desk position at the dealership. I made sure to point out there was no work experience required.
“Dad, I work every day,” he scoffed before shutting me out for the next two months.
To me, the music sounds like a Rottweiler with his paw stuck in a garbage disposal. I guess I’m not most people.
He spends time with his girlfriend every day. Whenever he’s not playing and she’s not working, they make time to be together. They browse for discounts on bands with names like King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard with hopes they can afford one single record.
I see my wife most days. I tell her she looks beautiful as I rush out the door, and I tell her dinner was delicious when we watch primetime TV. We talk. I can’t remember the last time we talked about us.
One day he comes over and asks if he can borrow twenty dollars. He explains that the show is 118.6 miles away and his tank is low. He can’t fight the smile off his face as he explains the “epic-ness” of tonight, that sometimes seventy people show up and the acoustics cannot be beat.
Of course I give my son the money.
My son is what people call “unemployed.” During the day he chills out (accomplishes nothing) at his apartment, and at night he plays guitar in his band, sometimes eight shows a week. Crowds no larger than fifty, but most people walk out happy they’ve discovered the existence of The Mangy Rottweilers.
I made ten overpriced sales last week. Most people walked out happy they’d discovered the existence of sky control and seat coolers.
Last night, I reminded him about the open front desk position at the dealership. I made sure to point out there was no work experience required.
“Dad, I work every day,” he scoffed before shutting me out for the next two months.
To me, the music sounds like a Rottweiler with his paw stuck in a garbage disposal. I guess I’m not most people.
He spends time with his girlfriend every day. Whenever he’s not playing and she’s not working, they make time to be together. They browse for discounts on bands with names like King Gizzard and the Lizard Wizard with hopes they can afford one single record.
I see my wife most days. I tell her she looks beautiful as I rush out the door, and I tell her dinner was delicious when we watch primetime TV. We talk. I can’t remember the last time we talked about us.
One day he comes over and asks if he can borrow twenty dollars. He explains that the show is 118.6 miles away and his tank is low. He can’t fight the smile off his face as he explains the “epic-ness” of tonight, that sometimes seventy people show up and the acoustics cannot be beat.
Of course I give my son the money.
