You have some good tips… But what I’m about to reveal to you will change your life indefinitely.
While on the job in a remote location just outside of Rio Linda, California - I happened to come across a psychotherapy that revamped my entire being. I was traveling with my lawyer, Swifty Barrowitz. Swifty is a frugal man. He’s cheap.
Why, Swifty’s so cheap - he makes a sandwich with just one slice of bread. Swifty’s so cheap he reads fortune cookies to his kids before bed. Swifty’s so cheap he once got evicted from his bicycle.
So as you can see, it didn’t come as a surprise when we were suddenly out of gas on the broken pavement side of Elverta road. Gruesome properties lined the street each displaying cracked frame ways and bars lining the windows. Beaten vehicles sat atop dead grass in the front yards. Doors were cracked and chipped and the shifty eye’d onlookers gawked as we made our way from the car to the road.
We hadn’t made ten paces before a frantic man ran calling toward us. He was panting and made a vulgar gurgle noise between breaths. His eyes rippled and the red lines inside them sparkled with a fierce electricity. He was unbalanced as he briskly moved. Fumbling like a toddler and reaching for some invisible beam. Grease covered hair poked from his brown, lint covered beanie… plopping in front of his pale, pasty face and snagging inside his unshaven stubble.
“You guys is lost!” He correctly articulated.
“We’re not lost brute,” I shouted, “We just don’t know where we are.”
“Where you are…” he started through purling gurgles, “is exactly where you should be.”
“I have no time for disgustingly dressed sages. I’m late for sound check. Garbage cologne’d savant day isn’t for three more days!”
Harsh, yes…but you have to be on guard with the brutes. They’re a mean sort that deal in carnival barking and trickery. There’s always an apple with the brutes…and it’s always filled with poison.
“Oh…I see,” he began, "You have a long go. Well, you gonna tire down. So take this."
He reached into his coat. It was one of those long coats you wear in July because you’re insane and the cat told you it was fashionable. I barely flinched as he pulled a folded note from the depth of his inner pocket and handed it to me. I opened it and found in shockingly legible letters:
Simon’s Transactional Stress Maximization Techniques- A tolerance building exercise that minimizes reactions to daily mental and physical strains by engaging in maddening behaviors:
Find and argue with a spouse about the air conditioner setting.
Start all daily conversations at work by saying: “I know you think you’re right but…”
Ask to babysit your friend’s children and take them to a grocery store.
Ask a mail carrier “isn’t email a more effective system?”
Create an online ad for “Little person bowling.” When you get hired, arrive and explain that you “identify” as a little person.
Sit with people that smack their mouths while eating corn. As they eat, ask them to define the perfect song.
Purchase 20 channel changers identical to your working channel changer. Ask the neighbors to hide them while you work.
After one week of living with these helpful tips - you will be completely desensitized to stress of all sorts. As an added bonus, you will also be prepared for marriage.
I was confused. I needed clarification from this wild looking savage…but as I put the paper away, he was nowhere in sight.
“Swifty…” I exclaimed, “Where’s the ruffian?”
"The who? " Swifty shot back, drenched in his own perspiration.
“The brute…where is the brute?” I yelled.
“What are you talking about kid? You’re worn out champ. You have to play tonight. Get it together.”
I never spoke of the man again…but I did put his (or someone’s) stress techniques to good use. I can successfully say that I’m married, have kids, I’m totally numb to all things and a walking zombie of whatever-ness.
Thanks weird looking, long coat guy… wherever you are…