Back to the Crib

I literally put together a crib today. I'm looking at it now. I sort of want to sleep in it. Nevermind the fact that I'm a grown ass man that won't fit.

But as I was building this massive structure, I thought to myself "Where are all my zany friends to help"? I've seen enough TV to know that one of two things happens when you assemble a crib:
1. I throw caution to the wind and disregard the telephone book sized instructions and make something that looks nothing like a crib. Or...
2. A group of my nutty friends come over and it's an all night bonding experience. We talk about the days before marriage, who got with which girl in high school, and we all come to some sort of epiphany at the end of it all. Well guess what? None of that happened. TV has lied to me once again. Instead, I put that crib together like a boss. But there were no shenanigans, no tomfoolery, no skullduggery.

I read a really good blog by Jill Mader that talked about how TV has diluted her perception of friendships. But how about how TV has completely ruined my perception of life was supposed to be like?
I wrote a while back about how my early childhood shows tainted my vision of love. I never met my Winnie Cooper, Topanga, Dina Alexander or Joey Potter. Yes, I met a great woman, but I searched and searched for those archetypes of women for a long time. There's a piece of me who still wants to be Vanilla Ice in Cool as Ice - roll into a small town on my motorcycle and woo some small town girl who has no perception of the inner city. Find me one person who doesn't want an Elliot Reid, Lana Lang or a Robin Scherbatsky. You won't find a one.

But enough about that. Sidenote time.
- I am totally in LOVE with the song Lost by Frank Ocean. I play it in my head as I walk around work, the gym and while in my car. If you look closely at me at work (with my headphones in) I am usually bobbing out to this. In fact, I'm blasting it right this second.
- Being sick is for the birds. I have a nasty summer cold that I can't seem to shake.
- I recently read The Art Of Racing In The Rain. The book should be called "the art of not buying this book EVER".
- I am still giddy over my pen purchases a few weeks ago. They are totes.
- How oh how have I never thought to make a rap song/album called "Rapscallion"?