Cure your blues

Depression. It’s something that afflicts us all. To deal with it, some people lie down on recliners while strangers inform them that sexual love for their mothers is perfectly acceptable. Others pop multi-coloured pills that make them think of multi-coloured bunnies. Still yet others jump in front of MRT trains to be turned into steaks. Frankly, this is all a bit too hardcore for me. I have my own ways of dealing with my down days.

Such as reading a particular blog.

I can’t name it here, obviously. Otherwise he would catch wind of my nefarious reasons for perusing his useless writing and shun me forever. And then I’d really have to jump in front of a train or gouge my liver out with a spoon to feel better.

Suffice to say then that he is a one-time colleague who, for various reasons, many of us disliked. “I can’t stand his face,” someone once remarked which I thought somewhat shallow even though I also wanted to punch his sorry mug in. “He looks like a chao keng clerk.” I held this view too because he was pasty white and walked like a limp dick. And then there was the fact that he proudly festooned his desktop with pictures of Manchester United players. That automatically set him apart as a pariah. Someone whose head and my shoe went together.

When I left that agency, I actually forgot about him and his pansy ways for awhile. And then someone decided that he had an ‘interesting’ blog which I might like to take a look at. I am sad to say that I have since become an ardent fan.

After all, with sentences like “wow... never realise tat it's been omost a mth since i last blogged...” and, as an intro to yet another lyrics post, “it's oso the theme song 4 the drama series (something or other)... bery nice~~~ hope every1 can find a (another something or other) beside him/her... :P”, who wouldn’t be? It is appropriate at this point that I stress that it is indeed a human male that I am talking about.

“Let’s jump him then go home and wait for his post,” someone suggested after I’d shown him this literary enclave. I had to decline because I am not one for physical violence. This is partly down to ethics and mostly down to me being utterly useless in a fist fight. Though you have to agree that it was a good suggestion.

And this is exactly why reading this loser’s blog is cathartic. It makes you feel alive. After just two sentences, you think to yourself, “Good god almighty, if there’s one thing I could kill RIGHT NOW, it’s him.” And just like that you forget that, just a few seconds ago, you were on the verge of sticking your head in the oven. Because you’ve come to the realisation that, compared to that scourge on the gene pool, your life is really worth so much more.

So to all manic depressives out there, if you’re feeling a little down or a little sorry for yourself, forget the shrink. Go find yourself a blogger to hate instead. Based on that, I will hereby be charging on a word by word basis.