Superman or SuperSean?

[While I am sulking about the most godawful suntan (sunburn?) lines in the history of the world, I hope you will all enjoy Sean's Inaugural Post. By way of introduction, Sean is the Bestest Pal of Phillip and Me, literally, the Best Man. He doesn't like to make up his mind about anything (see below), but we keep him around because he's always up for whatever WE want to do. Which is really the only necessary Friend Requirement we have. I am dying, no really, DYING, to make some editorial comments in the long ass sentences that follow, but perhaps you have heard that I am in Hawaii? Where I went snorkeling and did not die? Where I am now about to head out to dinner and a mai tai or three? Where I went from Pasty White Northwesterner to Hideously Tan-Lined Tourist in a matter of hours? So no time for editorializing, but let's all welcome Sean, who is too non-committal to decide on a topic, let alone start his own blog. Hey Sean! Just so you know, I'm leaving for the Big Island tomorrow morning and come Monday I'll probably drinking my 82nd mai tai by my fancy shmantzy hotel pool while you're stuck in that office with the jerk boss who snorts cocaine in the bathroom. AND THE INTERNET THINKS I'M KIDDING!)

[Hawaii! Is starring on Flickr!]

OK Internet, here is my debut. I’m already resigned to the fact that it’s going to be subpar. Oh, I know Maggie’s talked me up a little, but “heck” she doesn’t REALLY know what she’s getting herself into. The only writing of mine that she’s ever reviewed are the instant messages that we used to exchange all the work-long days before one of my micro-managing bosses moved my desk into his office not three from his and started watching me like a hawk.

So, as Maggie is FINALLY receiving a notice in her inbox that Sean has FINALLY written SOMETHING that she may be able to post to “mighty maggie” after she’s been hounding me for weeks on end, I must tell you that it’s really taken me this long to just choose something to write about. I mean come on Internet, everyone wants to make a good first impression, right? Or are you all more forgiving than I anticipate? Just promise me you’ll be gentle this first time…

Consequently, I ran through a myriad of ideas in my mind over what to write about. Literally, it’s like a merry-go-round in there – “…maybe I’ll write about This. No, how about That. No, That-Other-Thing would be better. But then again, This might’ve been a good choice. However, That does have the benefit of going in a certain direction…” – all until I started feeling like Abbot & Costello doing their “Who’s on First” bit. Sheesh.

Well, I never settled on an idea. It just kind of came to me last night before going to bed. As I was brushing my teeth these thoughts started going through my head. (If only I was able harness the creativity that seems to flow through my noggin when I’m taking part in hygienic activities I’d have a million blog entries already…) I decided that I’d just write about work. Everybody works, everybody can relate. Right? Sort of. (Just wait ‘til you read…) But because I was on my way to bed at 1:30 AM I thought that maybe making a few notes would be most prudent since I obviously wasn’t going to sit down and write the blog then.

Let’s get to it, Internet! I hate my job! Can I get a “hell yee-ah” from anyone out there in cyberspace? I hate my job with a passion. Oh sure, I have some good days that make me think maybe I could stick around, but I quickly come to my senses. Don’t believe any of my friends if they tell you that I’ve not yet come to my senses. I have, oh, I assuredly have. They’ll tell you “Sean’s back at the same ‘ol Crappy Job again that he left over two years ago to go back to school. He’s never going to quit.” I did go back to school – to study something totally unrelated – but, it’s true, I am back at my Crappy Job. I was only supposed to be there until February 2006, but I’m still there at my Crappy Job. Honestly, I’m just waiting for that end of the year bonus before I cut and run. I promise. Shhh. Don’t tell my employer though, OK? Now you all can keep me to my promise.

I’ve done some thinking. A lot of thinking about what I’d rather do. Obviously, it’d be to pursue the career that I left the Crappy Job for in the first place. Said career would be graphic design. That’s all well and good, but it’s really a story for another time. What I’d prefer to focus on is a job that, I think, would be much more enjoyable.


Not that Superman had any CHOICE in the fact that his planet exploded and his parents sent him away in a little space ship as a baby which then crash-landed on a planet with a yellow sun thereby rendering him super strong only to be found by a couple that would raise him as their own until he grew up and moved to the big city to become a journalist-by-day and superhero-by-night.

I would, however, CHOOSE to be Superman. Why, you might wonder? Well, maybe you don’t wonder. I’m sure there are many out there who share my same sentiments – probably mostly those of the masculine gender. As I gaze upon the Superman statue that adorns the top of my television I think I’d like to be The Man of Steel for a few of, but not limited to, the following reasons:

  1. I could open my beer without a bottle opener (the ones that AREN’T twist-off for those of you whose initial response was that I must really be a weakling.)
  2. I could sleep in until the last minute and still make it on time to everywhere I need to be, and dressed to the nines.
  3. I wouldn’t have to worry about commuting time. Or contributing to global warming.
  4. I could fly to Europe to vacation in Tuscany at a moments notice without the expense or time it takes to fly on a commercial airline.
  5. I could become a World Dictator and make everyone get along.

The biggest reason that I’d like to be Superman, however, is because I wouldn’t have to work. Oh sure, Superman works. Remember, he’s a journalist-by-trade, Clark Kent. But does he really HAVE to work? I’m sure that being at the Daily Planet allows him to remain “informed,” and to keep up on late-breaking tragedies that require his attention, but, again, does he NEED to work? Does he require money to buy hip threads? Does he need cash to pay for food? I’ve considered these points very delicately and have come to the conclusion that the answer in both cases is, indeed, a simple “no.”

Who would disagree that Superman is always sporting stylish threads. And especially now since he’s Returned after being away for so long. There’s really nothing further to discuss on this point. And that conveniently segues into my next point. He’s been away for soooooo long. Now, I’ll admit that I haven’t yet seen the new movie. And as a big Superman fan I should be ashamed. But I’ve heard the general plot. Superman goes to find his old planet of Krypton, and while he’s gone earth feels that it’s been abandoned by The Man of Steel, so much so that Lois Lane writes a story about why they don’t need him anyhow. So, Superman must’ve been gone for a FREAKIN’ LONG TIME. Now we must analyze just how he chose to get to Krypton? Did he take a space ship that could carry LOTS of supplies, including food? No. Why would he when he could most likely fly much faster? Moving on. Did he strap on a SuperBackpack that could carry SuperClif Bars? Of course not. Duh! There’s no such thing as SuperBackpacks and SuperClif bars! Did he take nothing to eat which confirms my idea that Superman doesn’t need a job to pay for food because he can leave earth for a FREAKIN’ LONG TIME and doesn’t need to eat anything for sustenance. I THINK SO! Then again, I suppose he could eat asteroids and not break his teeth, or he might’ve stopped off for a rare steak at the Restaurant at the End of the Universe. In any case, you all must agree that the evidence is there. Superman does not need a job. And, therefore, if I could be Superman I wouldn’t need to have a regular job either. Just being Superman would be job enough. Heck, it wouldn’t even seem like a job.

Now I just have to figure out how to be reincarnated as the newborn son of an brilliant scientist on a planet far away that will agree to send me to earth in a space capsule as soon as our planet shows signs of exploding. Got any ideas Internet?