Making Lemonade

My life is far from perfect. Those of you who know me might consider this quite a bit of an understatement. “James,” you might say, “Let’s be perfectly honest. Your life sucks.” To these people I would just like to say, “Shut up.” My life isn’t all bad. I have a lot of good things going for me. I’m smart, funny, devilishly handsome, and one hell of a swell guy. True, there are many areas in my life which may not be up to snuff, but I am not here to dwell on my shortcomings. No, I’m not going to use this forum as my personal whiny sounding board. I will not bore you, dear reader, with endless kvetching. For, you see, I have turned over a new leaf. You are looking at a new man – or at least reading the writing of a new man. I have made a solemn vow to accentuate the positive. From this point forward I am Mr. Optimist. Life may keep on feeding me lemons, but that’s just fine by me. I’ve got a full supply of sugar, and I know how to make some killer lemonade.

For instance, just today at work while on my lunch break, I managed to spill quite a bit of coffee on my nice dress shirt. Let’s just say that coordination is not among the plethora of gifts God has blessed me with. I am a bit of a klutz. Now, this coffee spill would have completely flummoxed old James. It could have very easily ruined a nice dress shirt. But new James remained completely unfazed. Unsightly coffee splotches on a nice pressed garment can’t bring me down. New James is nothing if not resourceful. I simply bought more java and now instead of a sharp white shirt, I am the proud owner of an uber-stylish coffee colored shirt. Problem solved.

My car – the ’93 Lumina I have affectionately dubbed ‘The Silver Buller’ – leaks oil like a sieve. I am constantly pouring more oil under the hood which invariably ends up decorating the pavement beneath it. Sure, this is an annoying problem. Old James would do nothing but fret and complain, but new James has devised an elegantly simple solution to this problem. Now, instead of putting the oil in the car, I pour the oil directly onto the ground beneath the vehicle effectively cutting out the middle man. This is the very model of efficiency. Plus, in the right light my parking place takes on a rainbow glisten.

As mentioned earlier I am one attractive guy, although many would consider me to have a few physical flaws. Most glaringly I am going prematurely bald. I don’t necessarily consider this a bad thing. It is a completely natural turn of events, not unexpected when the heads of my male forebears are examined. It makes me look distinguished and it also saves me plenty of money on shampoo. Still, some people do not agree with my humble assessment of my sexy, sexy self. Not that the sentiments of these people bother me, but I have taken steps to ratchet up my image. To help explain my male pattern baldness and let everyone know the true me, I have a bought a T-shirt. That’s right, a T-shirt. So, now everyone will know that I do not have a bald spot, but instead I possess a solar panel for a love machine. The love machine is me, by the way. The fact that this solar panel keeps expanding should tell you just a little something about the quality of this love machine.

So, you see, I no longer wallow in self pity. I am a new man, reborn into the world of positive thinking and self-esteem. I can hit all the curve balls life throws at me. Through sheer pluck and determination I will make my way in this world. Now, there’s nothing for me to do but sit back and wait for the self-help book deals to come rolling in. Eat your fat heart out Dr. Phil.

Shalom