Happy Blue Monday!
It seems only appropriate that my first post of 2007 should commemorate "Blue Monday," an appellation given this day by some British guy who claims that various factors make it the glummest of the year. While I might ordinarily argue that this is barely worth noting, given the photo-finish closeness of the 364 runners-up, instead I say let us embrace this crappy day and then get on with our lives. So turn that smile to bitter bile, and follow one (or preferably all, if you have the time) of these spirit-lowering tips:
Listen to some Nick Drake (the later the better). Also the songs "Gloomy Sunday" by whomever (Costello's version being my choice, natch) and "When You're Alone" from the Mister Magoo's Christmas Carol soundtrack.
Make some boilermakers with the cheapest whiskey you can find, but substitute Nyquil for beer.
Go to a park and feed all your Prozac to the pigeons. Sigh heavily as they die at your feet.
Watch that douchebag on Fox "News" whose hair is the same color as his awful face. Jesus, he's miserable.
Rent Ponette, the saddest movie I've ever seen (or if too much subtitle reading takes the edge off your drunken sorrow, Ordinary People--oh, those poor, sad, rich white folks!).
Get on a bus and make eye contact with the most pitiful specimen you can find, thereby guaranteeing a soul-deflating conversation. (I hope I don't really have to clarify this, but this only applies to transit buses, not school buses--that will just get you arrested, and that's probably more depression than you need.)
Look at a picture of George Bush for an hour. Sure, you'll giggle at first--look at him!--but soon you'll start to really think about him and how he is inexorably involved in your life and will be even after he's out of office. You will be sobbing like a gassy baby in no time.
And of course, the number one woe-inducing activity of all: go to work. Today, be sure to do the eye-contact thing with every co-worker you normally avoid.
Tell me, what do you do when you feel like being sad? Remember, Rosey Grier says it's okay to cry (although he said it while strumming a guitar and wearing a turtleneck sweater, so it was actually harder not to laugh...)
Listen to some Nick Drake (the later the better). Also the songs "Gloomy Sunday" by whomever (Costello's version being my choice, natch) and "When You're Alone" from the Mister Magoo's Christmas Carol soundtrack.
Make some boilermakers with the cheapest whiskey you can find, but substitute Nyquil for beer.
Go to a park and feed all your Prozac to the pigeons. Sigh heavily as they die at your feet.
Watch that douchebag on Fox "News" whose hair is the same color as his awful face. Jesus, he's miserable.
Rent Ponette, the saddest movie I've ever seen (or if too much subtitle reading takes the edge off your drunken sorrow, Ordinary People--oh, those poor, sad, rich white folks!).
Get on a bus and make eye contact with the most pitiful specimen you can find, thereby guaranteeing a soul-deflating conversation. (I hope I don't really have to clarify this, but this only applies to transit buses, not school buses--that will just get you arrested, and that's probably more depression than you need.)
Look at a picture of George Bush for an hour. Sure, you'll giggle at first--look at him!--but soon you'll start to really think about him and how he is inexorably involved in your life and will be even after he's out of office. You will be sobbing like a gassy baby in no time.
And of course, the number one woe-inducing activity of all: go to work. Today, be sure to do the eye-contact thing with every co-worker you normally avoid.
Tell me, what do you do when you feel like being sad? Remember, Rosey Grier says it's okay to cry (although he said it while strumming a guitar and wearing a turtleneck sweater, so it was actually harder not to laugh...)
posted by psaur at 8:27 AM
4 Comments:
How typical that I'm in the best mood I've been in since the New Year (barrings weekends).
Mmmm...barring. Let's do it!
you can kill birds with prozac?
Yes. Or rocks.
I fed pigeons Ritilan once and they did my taxes.
Post a Comment
<< Home