Hello, and welcome to the writings of a guy. A guy who recently started wearing camo colored pants on the reg. A guy who exports New Glarus beer to himself in the mail because it is not sold outside of the state of Wisconsin. A guy who writes down these things sometimes.
Today I want to talk to you about the Goddamn Sauce, ie the essence of what I am currently lost in. Insert really confident and clever transition sentence here…yea right, you’re not one of Judge Judy’s TV show’s stenographer’s.
Alas, one of my favorite things to do is to attempt to decipher. I think often about the powerful tools I have at this moment, that grant me virtually unlimited abstracted problem solving abilities.
For example, a mobile phone let’s me respond to one of my disgruntled Amazon customers who complains that there was glue on the Green Bay Packers sweater I sold to her (no there wasn’t-Linda S who lives in Arkansas-I don’t even own glue right now). You don’t even know about how this Midwestern attitude places reputation at the top…
Another example, one day I decided that Paco should be handsome enough to enter and win various Cat Beauty Contests (I have no idea what they are called), so I went and looked up the next cat show that I could enter him in, and discovered that I had to enter him under a specific breed. The totally reasonable requirement that a cat can’t just be entered into a contest of aesthetics with other cats with whom they share little resemblance led me to discover that Paco is a sweet little Raggamuffin. Forever stuck inside because he is too friendly and would get kidnapped immediately because of his majestic handsome face and small pink bean pawz.
That took a bit of an aside, err…sometimes I do that. On to the topic at hand. The first time I heard the expression “Lost in the sauce”, I knew how to decipher it immediately. To quote urban dictionary:
an existential state of uncertainty defined by transcendent, even blissful, confusion
In over your head. Confused. Out of your comfort zone but in a positive way.
Now, I don’t say this with the purpose of creating an “existential racket” that should concern you, but I admit I find myself in this state of being quite often. There are times where I try to associate my being with things, brands, ideologies, the company I keep, etc., but they aren’t me, they are part of my goddamn sauce.
I am a collection of what I know (“what” in this context encompassing the obtuse all the way to personally-special proper nouns-yes, you, hey there cutie), how I feel about what I know, how I feel about what I don’t know, and not a whole lot of healthy bacteria at the moment since the Ciprofloxin committed Josh-germ genocide after MEXICO CITY (really a fun place tho!).
When I’m really lost in the sauce I start writing, and thus you have this blog that I started today. I am going to be shutting down the hella shortlived fitness and workout blog (ha) I started, daddybod.com and hopefully selling that domain to Seth Rogan or some shit.
From now on-wards you’ll see posts about my life, and I’ll be regaling you with tales about my career, my friends & family, my loves, my Paco, tests I administer to unknowing people to see if they are worth my time, my travels, my business, my obsession with meta, my newest obsession with surrealism, and other topics whose thought seeds have been firmly planted in the right-hand side of my brain. How often I post will be a function of how damn interesting I find the world you guys were lucky enough to have been born into.
With all that said, good morning, and if I don’t see you, good afternoon, good evening, and buenos noches.