One Of Us Has Got To Do Something I got a call from Huck on Sunday night (right in the middle of The Simpsons but I'll forgive him) just to see what was going on. Now, don't get me wrong, I love the little guy. He's a witty, erudite fellow with a dog that can't remember he's just been outside to do his business (and in case any of you ladies out there are wondering. Yeah, he's single). The real problem began roughly five seconds after I picked up the phone. "So what are you up to?" The silence was no big deal. That's how conversations go most of the time. What depressed the hell out of me is that neither of us (two young, devastatingly handsome folks) could cobble together one interesting thing that we've done. You'd probably be inclined to give Huck some slack given that fact that he currently resides in middle-of-nowhere New England, but frankly that just doesn't cut it as an excuse. Not only does he have a wealth of bucolic splendor to draw on, but we all know about small town shenanigans. Who among us doesn't have a really great story that starts with, "so we were drinkin' behind the Circle K when..."? Me? Well, it just so happens that I live in one of those "rad" west coast metropoli that is supposed to cause one to lead a vibrant, exciting life full of xtreme sports and Pepsi drinking. That, however, is far from the reality. On the whole it's safe to say that I now live in a town that has hundreds of things that I'll never quite get around to doing. So here we are, the fucking Wonder Twins of boredom. "Form of...A guy staring at the wall!" Huck shouts. "Shape of...A man who has no idea what to do with himself now that the Simpsons are over!" I reply in chorus. We ended the conversation by telling each other that one of us had to do something, anything, before the next time we talk. To that end I will stripping naked, covering myself in butter and thyme, and running through the streets of the city screaming, "soup's on!" this evening. Top that Huck!
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