GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #1085: FIND YOUR FUN

 I always talk about how the world is currently the tire fire to end all tire fires, and I'm not the only one. I'm not in the habit of pointing out the obvious, but I say it because I'm always trying to remind people to find their fun. Fun isn't going to knock on your door and present itself, wearing its Sunday's finest and giving you a firm and vigorous handshake. Unless you're into that sort of thing. I don't judge.

You have to go out and find it. Or, if you don't want to go out, you can make it at home.

But I like to go out. Today my aunt invited me to lunch. She lives about as far west as you can get in Illinois without being in Iowa, so our mid-point is Dixon, the hometown of Ronald Reagan. I imagine that's why they call I-88 the Reagan tollway. I drove past his childhood home, and I'm sure it didn't look that nice when he lived there.

I mention it because it was a 45 minute drive through beautiful land on a lovely day. For the first time in weeks, it wasn't hot as balls out, so I could drive with the windows down, the wind making my hair dance like one of those inflatable things you see at dealerships.* I felt good, so I turned up the music and enjoyed the trip. And for just a bit, I could ignore the Great American Tire Fire (TM).

Fun shouldn't be a project, but when you find it, you should enjoy it, no matter how little it might be. I'm sure a lot of people are reading this and thinking, that is your idea of fun? It's not capital F fun, but sure, I had fun. It lightened my spirits.

Sometimes that's all it takes. Speeding down 88 at 100 mph through farmland as far as the eye can see.

Added bonus: when I got home I discovered a shipment of Tang from my friends, Alicia and Chris Stamps. It wasn't just a container of Tang. They got me TWO GIANT CANISTERS!

This is only a little shorter than my thigh, and I'm a tall dude.

Also! I won a Goodreads giveaway! That always cheers me up. All in all, it was a good day.

So yeah, sometimes fun really does show up at your door. But it doesn't happen a lot, so make sure you seek it out.

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*Yes, I'm sure it's called something. Also, I am high and do not wish to look it up. You can always write your own blog about these things.**

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**Yes, you can call your blog Goodnight, Fuckers 2: Electric Bugaloo. You're welcome.

GOODNIGHT, FUCKERS #911: TANG

 For my birthday, my friends Alicia and Chris Stamps got me the giant cannister of Tang you see above. It's fuckin' huge. I remember thinking at the time that I might not run out of Tang for months. If you're new to these columns, I love Tang. I drink it every morning and have since I was a child.

But the weird thing is, when I opened the container there wasn't a scoop in there. Don't companies usually put a scoop in? I found one of my own and have been using that since. However, as I'm nearing the halfway point, I felt something weird in the Tang powder. I reached in and brushed it off, and it turned out there was, indeed, a scoop:

Why did they bury the scoop so deep? There's no way I would have been able to dig this out if I had thought to do so. And the picture doesn't do it all that much justice because this scoop is pretty small. So instead of using that, I've decided to continue using my own scoop. See below for comparison.

Yeah, I don't fuck around when it comes to Tang. I don't ever want to risk not having enough Tang, so I put a metric shit-ton into my glass. The flavor! My God, my tongue is tingling and twisting just thinking about it!

All right. I'm going to get some Tang before I go to bed. Goodnight, fuckers.