SupaStarDX

Fancy cars, movie Stars... red carpet and great applause; Limosuines and search lights.....

thats what a nights like when you get it right.

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From Me:


Carlos Washington was a miserable bastard and he knew it because he had a lot of people point it out to him over the years and he saw no reason to disagree with them except the obvious one which was the he liked disagreeing with people, particularly people he disliked, which included, at the last count, everybody.
He heaved a sigh and swiched to a lower gear.
The hill was beginning to steepen and his H2 Hummer was heavy with British Columbian weed.
It wasn¿t that he was naturally predisposed to be so surly, at least he hoped not. It was just the rain that got him down, always the rain.
I was raining now, for instance.
It was a particular type of rain that he particulary disliked, particularly when he was driving. He had a number for it. It was rain type 27.
He had read somewhere that the Eskimos had over two hundred different words for snow, without which their conversation would probably have gotten very monotonous. So they would distinguish between thin snow and thick snow, light snow and heavy snow, sludgy snow and, brittle snow, snow that came in flurries, snow that came in drifts, snow that came in on the bottom of your neighbor¿s boots all over your nice clean igloo floor, the snows of winter, the snows of spring, the snows you can remember from your childhood that were so much better than any of your modern snow, fine snow, feathery snow, hill snow, valley snow, snow that falls in the morning, snow that falls at night, snow that galls all of a sudden just when you were going out fishing, and snow that despite all your efforts to rain them, the huskies have pissed on.
Carlos Washington had two hundred and thirty-one different types of rain entered into his little book, and he didn¿t like any of them.
Since he had left Vancouver the previous afternoon, he had been through types 34 (light sprinkling drizzle which made the roads slippery), 42 (heavy spotting), 72 to 96 (vertical light drizzle through sharply slanting light to moderate drizzle freshening), 110 and 116 (two finely distinguished varieties of vertical torrential downpour), 125 ( post downpour squalling, cold), all the sea storm types between 145 and 207 at once, 133, 145, 136, 137) mild and intermediate cold gusting, regular and syncopated cabin drumming), 13 (breezy droplets) and now his least favorite of all, 27.
Rain type 27 was a dirty and viscous mixture of rain infused with the pollutants of the all the Pacific Northwest. It banged and smeared against his windshield so hard that it didn¿t make much difference whether he had his wipers on or off.
He tested his theory by turning them off briefly, but as it turned out the visibility did get quite a bit worse. Yet failed to get any better when he cut the windshield wipers back on.
In fact, one of the wiper blades began to flap off.
Swish swish swish flop swish swish flop swish swish flop flop flap scrape.
He pounded his steering wheel, kicked the floor, poked at his CD player until it suddenly started playing Ceelo Green, poked at it till it stopped again, and swore and swore and swore and swore and swore.
And as he drove on, the rain clouds dragged down the sky after him, for though he didn¿t know it, Carlos Washington was a Rain God. All he knew was that his working days were miserable and he had a succession of lousy vacations. All the clouds knew was that they loved him and wanted to be near him, to give of themselves, to cherish him and to water him.

The point of this story? Often we spend way too much time and energy being miserable, delving in self destructive behavior to realize out full potential or that weare loved.