More than once someone has told I shouldn't be so hasty to wear my heart on my sleeve.
More than a few times I have realized in hind-sight that maybe I really fucked up this time.
I almost never feel good about the past and I let this ruin the present. This bodes ill for the future.
Enough of that. No more heart-on-sleeve mutual crying-fests. My heart is going straight from my sleeve and into my beer cooler. That's how most pre-transplant human organs are kept during transport ,is it not?
This works on a number of levels. Once I chuck that dark piece of cold dry ice into the Coleman all my warm, leftover beer will instantly be chilled to a frosty 40 degrees F.
If I hand this frozen bloody mass of duct-tape and crazy glue to the wrong person, all I need say is," oh,sorry-I meant to hand you a beer instead". Handing someone a beer is rarely a faux pas. Unless they are in AA or something. Even in that case, they're unlikely to run away, screaming in fear. And tell all your mutual friends about it.
Sidebar: I'd like to open a bar next to an AA meeting place and call it "Good-Bye Mr. Chips". I'd have Unhappy Hour where people could trade in their sobriety chips for drink discounts. I fucking hate AA. At one point I'd gone several years without a drink , which isn't really that hard, but a "pal" convinced me to go to an AA meeting with him. I stopped on the way home and got a 12-pack and a fifth of Cuervo Gold. So much for that.
Anyway, back to the cooler. My cooler is made of durable, high-impact plastic, which would help prevent sudden shocks and any resulting bruising or breakage. It's a bright cheerful red in color,and is mercifully opaque. You can stare at it for as long as you want to without knowing what's really inside.
I wish my eyes were like that.