Thursday, February 2, 2012

All the advice I've been given

I was lying in my bed the other night and some random stuff kept popping in my head. I guess the stretch must've triggered it. I remember how I used to get cramps every time I'd stretch before going to bed.

Why did I stretch in the first place? Good question. My sister told me it's good to stretch out when hitting the sack. It supposedly relaxes all the muscles that take part in the stretch. And since I've had problems with sleeping for as long as I remember, I started practising it quite early.

But as I started to stretch on a nightly basis, I started cramping up. Then I got another advice from my sister. You have to keep your foot soles up, not stretch them out. So, no ballerina. Standing style. Hammer down.

So, naturally, I kept thinking about all the good advice I've gotten during my life. All the small ones that no one really remembers. Everyone keeps using the same ones, like Love yourself!, Don't let it bring you down... and stuff like that. Such diary material...

My dad told me to piss in a specific corner of the toilet in order not to be heard five rooms away, as well as not to get piss all around the bathroom. Everyone should have that framed. Or clean after themselves.

My brother told me not to break my bones. You know, knuckling your fingers to death. Doesn't do any good. Doesn't do any damage either, according to research. I was already paranoid my hands would start shaking by the time I was 25. That wasn't the reason.

Don't use too much vinegar. Stand up straight. Brush your teeth. All those advice I should've taken.

Carpe diem. Drink more water. Smile!

I'm trying to come up with more of those, but I'm finally starting to get sleepy. I might just stretch out and hope I'll doze off.

Try to call yours back and stay pretty. G'night...


  1. As one of my fav movies would advice you

    "Choose Life. Choose a job. Choose a career. Choose a family. Choose a fucking big television, choose washing machines, cars, compact disc players and electrical tin openers. Choose good health, low cholesterol, and dental insurance. Choose fixed interest mortgage repayments. Choose a starter home. Choose your friends. Choose leisurewear and matching luggage. Choose a three-piece suit on hire purchase in a range of fucking fabrics. Choose DIY and wondering who the fuck you are on Sunday morning. Choose sitting on that couch watching mind-numbing, spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fucking junk food into your mouth. Choose rotting away at the end of it all, pissing your last in a miserable home, nothing more than an embarrassment to the selfish, fucked up brats you spawned to replace yourselves. Choose your future. Choose life... But why would I want to do a thing like that? I chose not to choose life. I chose somethin' else. And the reasons? There are no reasons. Who needs reasons when you've got heroin? "

    ..or cookies ;)

  2. Oh boy, I haven't seen that one in a long time...



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