At a certain stage in a man’s metamorphosis, you develop a ¼ life crisis. Well, maybe you adjusted and well nourished great thinkers-and-doers of our age didn’t, but I certainly hurled headfirst into one. As another day slips through my fingers and my grand aspirations, ideals and goals shrink on the horizon, I admit those difficult feelings an otherwise proud man would keep hidden in those well worn crevices we are known to have.
My best looking, most energetic, carefree days are, probably, over. I will never become a demigod of physicality with, seemingly, all the wonders of the world at my finger tips, otherwise known as an NFL football player and I’ll probably never harmonize my way into the American Fabric by way of musical Rock star prowess. The odds of a billionaire’s future seem, well, 1 in a billion. I’m a self aware man, if nothing else, after all.
As I swaggered with my new Lil Boosie through the ivory and scarlet aisles of Target last night with my Kevin Durant aquatics, navy blue and checkered work socks pulled just beneath where my knee met pajama striped shorts expertly matched to an accidently dyed pink shirt bred from the unfamiliarity’s of domestic exercises, I stumbled upon a creation that (uh, maybe) would definitely change my life forever!
Like Prometheus stealing Fire from the Gods to bestow upon mortals, I hurriedly grasped at the cheap Coffee Maker and ran to the safer and familiar confines of the bra and panties aisle to better assess what I had given myself.
Time Continuum. The final and least understood of experimental physicists conundrums. I had single handedly brought about the advent of the Time Travel Age! What I, in fact, found, was a way to gain an extra 2 hours in the day, and with it, finally helped to start the healing process by answering the lingering pain brought about by the question, “Why aren’t there enough hours in the day!?”
After gaining my composure, I slowly venture out of the thong aisle with my Black & Decker Time Machine safely under my arms. I need to find fuel for it so I go to the food aisle, strolling through the various assortments of gourmet beans and flavors from around the world, uncomfortable, nervous, and self conscious, like a man browsing double penetration and ass to mouth DVDs hoping he doesn’t leave with an unsatisfying pick.
Finally, after what felt like two hours (get it, get it? I’m a subtle genius, guys) I get home to my laboratory and set my alarm for 6am, two hours before I would have normally awaken the past two years, and the beginning of the time I have gained because of the ability of my new machine to keep me from sleeping my life away.
I won’t go on boring you with the details of how my coffee making skills leave a lot to be desired, but rest assured dear friends, I’m faring well. I’m sending this pioneering note at 2:17pm Jonathan Time, but in my new alternate reality, it is only 12:17pm. I hope to not return to Jonathan time (and alcohol) for quite a while.
Before you feel too bad about me and my situation, don’t miss me or mourn for me too much, I’m chasing my dreams and taking back the horizon, one Morning at a time!
-Jonathan R. Gonnet
The Neil Armstrong of the 21st Century
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