I took a trip to Lowes on Christmas Eve to look for a battery to my dad’s drill (Which the Capitalist bastards didn’t have.) and a sharpening stone for my brother (Which the capitalist bastards did have.). My jaunt to the ye old fashioned big-box do it yourself, spend your entire roll or scrilla, store actually got me thinking about my future and the things I want. Not just in the sense of tools, well partially, but more so in the sense of having actual things that are mine (or ours) and work hard for just like responsible adults.
I can guarantee that every adult has a list similar to this. These are lists of pleasures and luxuries that make you happy while you gladly attend to them. Things you look at and think to yourself “Yeah, that’s mine.” while you smile like Herman Cain watching an orphanage burn.
My list is short and simple:
A Yard — I want a yard with a house attached of course. I’ve made no secret on how I feel about dirt. I want to mow, hedge, trim, and dig to my heart’s content. (I also want a fence. I’m just not fond of neighbors.)[i] Maintaining a yard is hard work sometimes but it is a good way to blow off steam too. With the yard comes dirty nails, callouses, and sweat. I want a fire pit in my back yard where Moneypenny and I can sit outside, drink, and bullsh*t with each other or company if we invite their stinking a**es. I want a grill where the flesh of whatever beast we desire to dine on will be roasted. The yard doesn’t have to be gigantic but it would be nice to have enough space for Danger and Godzilla to play before the run each other ragged before they are let into the house.[ii] (See the second item.)
Dog(s) – I’ve wanted a dog for some time now. Hell, I’d take my parents dog, Champ even though he’s crazier than a sh*thouse rat if I had space for him.[iii] Like I was saying I want two dogs. One would be enough but why not have two to keep each other company. I want a Beagle or a bulldog named Danger, more specifically William Tecumseh Danger and larger dog named Godzilla. (I like Mastiffs but the slobber factor is high.) Dogs are just fun to keep around and they make for excellent conversations. (You talk. They listen and refrain meting out whatever worthless advice that a person may give you. Cause they can’t talk. Just lay there and nod in agreement.) If dogs could drink beer they would be like the best animal ever.
Man cave – Y’all know I want a big-a** television right? Guess where I’d put my big-a** television. I just want a spot where I can go to watch over the top comic book movies, the Discovery and Military Channels, see Alabama win, and Oakland lose. It will be a grand space where I’ll keep my comics, guns, and my future vinyl collection. Beer will be drank, epic naps will be taken, and mid-90’s hip hop and old blues songs, laden heavy with double entendre will be listen to. It will be awesome.
Tools/Shed – There just has to be a place where I can store my mechanical crap. I’ll need a place where shovels, spades, axes, pick axes and chainsaws will be kept. Don’t my caulk, ratchets, and hoes deserve a place to be safe and dry? Well, don’t they?
Guns – I’m not crazy, violent, or Clifford Harris. I just like shooting. Not well, but I like shooting them none-the-less. My pops has more than a few guns and I want more than a few guns too. I’d like good ones. Nothing large and pointless but nice enough to make wasting ammunition at targets I probably won’t hit fun.
I’m fairly simple aren’t I? No big fancy cars or anything like that but a man wants what he wants. So tell me, what do you want when you grow up? It can be anything. Something you can’t wait to get your hands on.
Vaya con Dios.
[i] Looking-a** ninjas with they looking a**es. I didn’t have an actual neighbor until I was in about the sixth grade. Before that it was just a field. That field was quiet. Didn’t argue with his boo bat girlfriend or have loud sex with his girlfriend.
[ii] Danger and Godzilla are what I want to name my future pet dogs…not children. What kind of a dumba** names their kids something arcane and a**hatish like Danger and Godzilla. That’s like naming your kid Blue Ivy… Oh, I’m sorry. What that your sacred cow?
[iii] I always wondered what “Crazier than a sh*thouse rat” meant but in my head I just compared living in a sh*thouse for a rat to living in a Baltimore for a human, or Michael Vick’s house for a dog.