It’s My Life and I’m Pissed
By Greg Jackson
Prologue
I’m just like any other person in the world. Well now that I think about it, not like EVERY person, but you know what I’m saying. But I would like to think that I live a pretty stereotypical life. I have an unbelievably lackluster job where I basically page and put other doctors through to other doctor’s phones because they are too lazy to do it themselves. Really invigorating stuff let me tell you. The small town that I currently reside in and have lived in most of my life is a run down old coke town. Not the drug, but the porous rock. Everyone knows how that’s going these days for the south western Pennsylvania area. I also have two degrees in which I can’t manage to do anything with. Sounds pretty familiar doesn’t it? So this got me thinking... Even though I’m pretty usual, there’s one thing that I think is really different than mostly everyone out there. I get pretty pissed off by the dumbest shit.
Being pissed, or for you politically correct people out there, irritated, comes as easy to me as Nick Cage makes bad movies. If there was a degree I could earn and then eventually get a job in, getting pissed about some stupid shit would be the one. Something as simple as someone not wearing black socks with a pair of black slacks will get me going. Did I just use the word slacks? Anyway, I can’t quite put a finger on when this all started but I can think of someone who triggered it. One of my best friends, Justin.
Although I may sound like a giant prick, I can actually hide the fact that mostly everything pisses me of pretty easily. In fact, I could hide it so well that my high school peers gave me the dubious distinction of being most polite in the yearbook. They actually voted on that. Hilarious right? You really have to be familiar with me to know when I’m mad about something because I won’t just share the comedic gold that comes out of my mouth with just anybody. The simple fact that I can laugh about this should show you how I don’t deserve that distinction. But Justin, and a few select people throughout high school, saw through the facade and saw Greg the pissed off asshole. I don’t mean that in a bad way either. Calling myself an asshole is me saying that I am a witty bastard. I have spent most of my youth with this kid and he just knows how to push my buttons. In fact, that forth mentioned “most polite” was one of those issues.
I was pretty happy with the fact that I won something. It literally could have been a new folding chair and I would have been excited. The fact that you win something, no matter what that is, gets people excited. But the actuality that I was voted most polite, even though it was sort of a slap in the face to everyone else, was humbling to me. I was thought of for something by my peers. The first thing I hear from Justin the next time I see him was the fact that he actually busted out laughing, in the middle of class mind you, when they announced this over the loud speaker. Forget for a second how much I didn’t deserve that award, and think about how much of a dick move that was. I laugh about it today but it pissed me off pretty good when he told me that. That’s just one of MANY things that he has done over the years, trust me.
I could also be getting this from my father. My pops has always been an angry fellow when it comes to dumb shit. One particular instance that has stuck in my head for a long time was when we were once packing to go to the beach. I love my father to death, don’t get me wrong, but he likes some stupid stuff. Just a few odd things my father enjoys include lighthouses, toy trains, and kites, the later of which being what this particular anecdote is about. One fateful evening, while Justin was hanging out at the house, my father furiously yells about something I thought I would never hear in my life. “GREG, WHERE’S THE GOD DAMN KITE STRING,” he so elegantly stated. As I begin to tell him that I couldn’t care less where the kite string is and why exactly I would know where that would be, he gets even angrier and stomps off in a fit of rage. Vintage Mike Jackson. Then my brother, who is just as bad and sometimes even worse, gets in my fathers face and tells him what he thinks about the kite string. I love my family. Though he has gotten somewhat better over the years, he still has these outbursts from time to time. I think this is part of the reason why I get pissed so easily.
Not many people know this but there is an actual art form to pissery. It’s actually a four step program.
Step 1- The statement- Some stupid idiot most likely unknowingly does something that makes me angry.
Step 2- The realization- I process what they said and make some weird face while stating “are you serious?”
Step 3- The steam- This is me going off on some tangent about the subject, usually making some ludicrous comment that sometimes doesn’t make sense and most of the time regret.
Step 4- The cool down- This is when I usually calm down…obviously… and then realize the repercussions of what I’ve said.
It sounds simple but trust me, it’s a lot more complicated than that. You really have to be a different breed to get so mad about some of the things I do. And that is what this book is about. Simply put, some of the things that piss me off the most will be diligently discussed along with personal stories to go along. Hopefully by the time you are done, you will understand why I get so angry. You may be asking yourself, “why should I care about this insignificant person and their farcical comments?” I’ll let you be the judge.
There is the prologue... Chapter one "The Food Industry" coming tomorrow. I hope everyone tunes in.
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