O Happy Day

I get a lot of compliments from people whenever I walk down the street with a big smile on my face. Some people think it's because I'm on some sort of super antidepressant. Others think that I'm in love. Both assumptions could not be further from the truth. I honestly think that the world is a much better place when people walk past you with a smile. It's better than having some crabby mother fucker ruining your groove with a sourpuss on their ugly mug.

Wouldn't you feel better knowing that other people are in a good mood? My mind would be much more at ease thinking that people either just had sex or are thinking of a funny joke they saw on Conan O'Brien (who is currently taping shows at the Chicago Theater this week). It makes my world ever more liveable. Is liveable a word? Well it is now.

I sometimes get the giggles when I see some hideous fashions out on the street. Yesterday I saw a man wearing a blouse. It was a blouse. It was such a blouse and it didn't look right on him. I couldn't help but stare, and I had to supress an enormous laugh or else I'd look like a crazy person. I thought about really depressing thoughts like the one Christmas Day when I discovered that my rabbit died. It helped to keep me from laughing, but then I imagined that it was wrapped in the blouse as I was burying it, so I let out a laugh. Luckily, the blouse man was past me and he didn't see me mock him.

People ask me why I'm so happy and I tell them that I'm not really THAT happy. I just prefer to focus on fun and exciting things rather than dwell on the bad things. I have to be careful though, because my smiling tends to attract a lot of unwanted sexual advances from the wrong people. And by 'wrong people,' I mean people with that nasty "I want to pound your boy pussy" look in their eye. UGH! You know who I'm talking about! If I ever get in those situations and they ask me why I'm so happy, I'll just tell them that I'm on a Paxil/Prozac/Sunlight therapy regimen.