SpaghettiBurrito.com big ideas for small times: The price of freedom

The price of freedom

So four days ago I became that dude that goes out for a pack of cigs to never return home again or turn up dead on the side of the road or get beamed down like 6 months later after an alien abduction. He just took a walk and *forgot* to come back. It was exactly exactly like that, only swap out the dude for me in my barbie shoes and change up the pack of cigs to a margarita (because cigarettes are worse than smoking someone's ass and I certainly wouldn't go walking around looking for someone's ass to smoke, especially not when I'm feeling all princess-y in my awesome new shoes) and instead of never coming back home it's more along the lines of the other person needs to leave the home that doesn't belong to him before the po-po get invited to the mad hatter's tea party and the barbie margarita girl gets to come back with the dead body she found on the side of the road and her new alien friend and they're all smoking the cigarettes the proverbial dude went out to get a long long time ago. Ya dig?

Good. Well anyhow, as most of my paint yourself into a corner and then create a makeshift sledgehammer out of the heel of your shoe adventures go, it started out innocently enough. With an idea. And not even one of the awesomest ideas I've ever had. This was no Human Dog Baby, no outsourcing of ghettos, not even new games to play at parties with assholes. This idea was so boring and conventional I'm more that a little embarrassed to say it out loud. But I will. Because most people suck at mind reading in general and my nut is a little harder to crack and if you're like, the only person who can read my mind you're probably in Bangladesh and about to light yourself on fire and not allowed to read the internets and even if you were allowed you probably can't find an effing wifi signal in the third world or second world or whatever the eff Bangladesh is considered so it really doesn't matter if you know what I mean because everyone else is probably sort of dying to hear what amazing idea I had that inspired me to be *that dude*.

Love, peace and a little bit of effing happiness. There I said it. I know, I now suck and the six people who were hanging on my every word now never ever want to hear from me again because I have transformed into some kind of Desperate Jersey Shore Housewife instead of the cutting edge idea machine of six short months ago. Quiet desperation will do that to a person. Look at your miserable neighbors, your unhappy friends, random assholes flipping each other off at traffic lights. I was coming dangerously close to emerging from my chrysalis one of them. And at my age, I only have so many chrysali left in me. And I owed it to myself and the world to go out kicking, screaming and executing ninja moves like never before to keep it from happening. It all went down exactly exactly like that only without making any sounds or busting any moves.

Just a phone call and a question.

'When are you coming back?'

'I'm not.'

And that was that. I think I might have twisted up my nose a little like that witch chick from the 60's tv show as I looked around the empty bar and with that that albatross of years of slow death by boredom, bickering and silence was cut from my neck and I walked out into the night. Alone. Far from home. And a little bit closer to my true destination.

So some words of wisdom to anyone reading this, or having it read to them by the nice men in the relaxation hospital. Whatever is making you feel unloved, not peaceful and even remotely unhappy-get the fuck out while you still can. If you can still see, hear, taste, smell, feel or any combination thereof, it's not too late. If your job, your town, your friends or even your spouse is slowly choking you to death like an invisible boa constrictor go out and take a walk. And never, ever come back. You will thank me. Trust me.