no one eats like chad buck

This is going to be a long eight weeks.

I don’t know about that. I may be happier never hearing it again.

“Alright, what do you want to hear about then?”

I’m afraid not.

“Definitely the least annoying twenty-one year old I’ve ever met.”

Do I come off as more mature?

“Much, thought you were more around twenty-five and just looked younger.” 

I’m only in the beginning stages of my career, so there’s no telling when I will settle somewhere. If everything goes according to plan, within the next couple of years. I’m just twenty-one.

“Twenty--- are you sure you’re that young?”

I could never live in Colorado. I told you from day one, only for ski vacations with my parents.

“I’m not saying I’m gonna stay in Colorado forever. But I’m also not gonna just pick up and go some random place. Having a good job in line has to come first.” 

That is priority and I’ll accept nothing short of the best, but there’s no use in having either if you aren’t happy where you are. It’s love, job, marriage, children. In that order.

“And if you have a job you hate to be with someone you love, you end up hating them for making you be there when you could be somewhere else with a job you want.”

Hmmm. Okay.

“Not much of a point in getting married or having kids if you can’t provide the absolute best for them is there?”

Did you have plans of leaving wherever it is you’re from? Denver?

“Business has been well, so no. If I found a better place to do my business with a higher income and greater means to expand, I would consider it.”

Arguably Milan or Paris… but in America? It is.

“Soon enough America will take that lead. We always do.”

Not that I’m aware of, but quite a few people are from the east coast, which is where I imagine myself ending up. New York specifically.

“Right. That’s the fashion center of the world, or something.”

“…Aren’t all politicians grown-up yuppies? That’s… sort of the criteria for campaigning for office, right?”

“I should have signed up for the Bachelor. Too many children.”

That I don’t doubt. The only time I will ever step foot in a place like Colorado is for a layover on my way to somewhere even slightly more interesting.

“Are any of the bafoons that call themselves men in the house from Washington?”

“…Sorry.”

“Anyway, sore losers get along fine. I mean, look at Donald Trump. He’s sore about everything and he’s still got hordes of supporters.”

“Donald Trump is a politician who finally has this country’s best interest in mind. He’s not going to go around sucking the dick of every person who wants to hold hands and pretend everyone in the world is on equal footing and should be able to waltz into each others houses at free will and borrow whatever they want. He knows the other side is going to play to the weaklings int he country and is sick of seeing what was once the greatest place on Earth falling into the ruin of hippie yuppies and their rainbow ideals!”

On your end, it sure is.

“Don’t worry, when the time comes I’ll sell the idea of Colorado to you. Plenty of needy women to be dressed. You’d be doing them a service.”

I’m from Seattle. You’re, sadly, from Colorado.

“Ahhh, unfortunate.”