My Brain is an Asshole

In yet another feeble stab at bettering myself, I decided to try to meditating this morning. (And by “meditate,” I mean “drink coffee without checking email.”) So I’m sitting there for about 25 seconds, when my brain starts talking to me. (My brain doesn’t support my attempts at self-improvement.) This is more or less how the conversation went:

Brain: Hey – hey, you. Don’t pretend you can’t hear me. I know you hear me.

Me: I’m not listening, I’m not listening, la-la-la-la-la…

Brain: What’cha doin’?

Me: STFU, I’m trying to meditate here.

Brain: I’m bored. I’ll bet I can get you to think about doughnuts…right…NOW.

Me: Grrr…

Brain: Hey, this is fun! Now we’re going to think about giraffes. Do you ever wonder what it would be like if they had to swallow pills? Like, if a giraffe had a headache and had to swallow an aspirin, how exactly would that work?*

Me: Shut up.

Brain: No, really—would he put the aspirin under his two-foot tongue? And then he’d have to bend all the way over to get some water, and the pill would fall out. Poor giraffes.

Me: I said shut up.

Brain: You suck at meditating.

Me: I hate you.

Brain: Mmm… doughnuts…

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*I spend an inordinate amount of time
wondering if animals get headaches.
Don’t ask.