Monday, January 6, 2014

Happy Aftermath

Tis the season for what I have coined "The Aftermath."

It's that time of year, day 6 into 2014, when most everyone has already given up on their New Year resolutions to become vegan and run 10 miles a day. You've spent most of your time in a coma of food, drink and time off fairly consistently since November and now your reeling in The Aftermath of all that crap.

The Aftermath causes a general panic in most individuals. Here are a few common panics you may be experiencing during The Aftermath.

1. You try on your new jeans from Christmas and choose to deal with the button imprint on your slightly larger belly. In this panic, you dedicate three whole days to two-a-day work outs and only eating plain lettuce. That is until you find yourself on the couch watching new episodes of your shows eating cold, few-day-old pasta with your fingers and tears in your eyes.

2. On that note, you have no groceries. You haven't been home for weeks, so you come to your kitchen with scraps of shit you wouldn't even consume during the Apocalypse. Corn and New England Clam Chowder from 6 months ago won't cut it, so you basically live off carbs until you make it to the store. (Note: the carb thing doesn't really help the Christmas jean dilemma.)

3. You hold off going grocery shopping because you're poor from Christmas. You spent money on gifts, travel, booze, and fun. And now you have $28.43 in your checking account and have created an Aftermath advent calendar to the next time you get paid.

4. Your heartburn, bloated tummy, and interesting backend behavior is still trying to recover. You basically feel terrible all the time and the only solution is naps? Anyone? Has anyone found a solution?

5. Your quick fix for #4 is to run to the store with your $28.43 and buy the generic version of tums and eat as much as a daily amount allows in one sitting.

6. Your house is a disaster. The last thing you want to do after saying goodbye to loved ones, traveling countless miles home, and trying to wrap your head around having to go back to work is unpack--or laundry for that matter. It looks like your living in a 1920s brothel on Las Vegas Boulevard. And you wouldn't be surprised to find a raccoon and its extended family, including new litter raccoon babies, under your bed.

7. Going back to work is the hardest thing you've ever done. You have a work-induced headache, you fear your inbox, and you're napping under your desk at lunch. The only good part about this is that no one is judging you.

8. Your liver is actually throbbing curses in morse code at you. What did you get for Christmas? Drunk, that's what. In response to this, you swear on Dry January. But it's January 4th when you realize your getting mimosas drunk at brunch and spending the remainder of the day drowning in bloody mary's and it's already too late. There is no going back.

It's important to remember that you're not alone. Everyone is on this train of Aftermath and it can only go up.

Just try not to be a lazy piece of shit and Happy Aftermath!

Thanks for soundin' down.


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catechism ( /ˈkætəkɪzəm/Ancient Greekκατηχισμός from kata = "down" + echein = "to sound", literally "to sound down" (into the ears), is a summary or exposition of doctrine, traditionally used inChristian religious teaching from New Testament times to the present.[1] Catechisms are doctrinal manuals often in the form of questions followed by answers to be memorized, a format that has been used in non-religious or secular contexts as well