A few months back, I broke down Ice Cube’s “It was a good day” for you, and was impressed by the way he put down on paper what an ideal day might encompass for him. This caused me to reflect on what an ideal day might mean to me, so I have recorded it here in a similar format:

Feeling fully rested so I got out of bed.
Just had some crazy thoughts in my head.
For some strange reason my positivity was perceptual
Because today just seemed like it would be exceptional.

Cruised to the kitchen but not to make toast,
Had a brand new bag of Seattle’s Best French Roast.
Fired up the grinder and poured my beans,
I use a french press so you know what that means.
Yeah, that’s right, I needs a coarser grind
But today there’s more than delicious caffeine on my mind.

Hit up the taqueria for a breakfast burrito
They were having a special so I said “Neat-o!”
Hooked up the chorizo, eggs, and huevos.
Sat right across from the one and only John Stamos.
We discussed how the World Bank is a mess
After that, he gave me Ashley Olsen’s email address.
But I didn’t want it so I was ’bout to throw it away,
And then he said “Don’t, I’ll give it to Dave Coulier!”
Wanted to eat before my food got frio,
So I asked my homie John to pass the Tapatio.
Finally got my food to the right level of spiciness,
My how today was to be full of nicy-ness.

Not a single work-email lighting up my iPhone
Saw some fly honies as I bought a blueberry scone.
Back at the pad I gave my gmail account a look
Some old friends tryin’ to reconnect on Facebook.
The fridge was full of beers, but I chose to abstain,
Good thing I Tivo’d “No Reservations with Anothony Bourdain”.
Watched the latest episode but didn’t get hungry
Cause that Namibian cuisine gets a little bit funky.
Tried to take a nap, but just wasn’t able,
Soon a serving deep in Johnny Walker Blue Label.
Took it easy and fired up the Xbox for a while,
Today was definitely 99th percentile.

Homies started callin, no need to send them to voicemail
They wanted to play some tennis cause my game ain’t stale.
Grabbed all my rackets and a can of Penns,
My first serve percentage was 110.
Hit mad serves out wide don’t cha know.
Every set David won 6-0.
Didn’t even worry ’bout no broken strings.
Today was a very above-average thing.

When I play tennis, I only get thinner,
So I figured I better go get my ass some dinner.
If my appetite were electronic, it would be a Sony
Got a feast that involved sausage, extra cheese, and pepperoni.
Killed an xtra-large all by myself,
Left the Pepcid AC up on the shelf.
The rest of my evening was somewhat inconsequential,
But overall today is best described as transcendental.

The Jack In The Box Taco contains:

• Total Calories: 170
• Fat Calories: 90
• Total Fat (g): 10
• Saturated Fat (g): 3.5
• Cholesterol (mg): 15
• Sodium (mg): 630
• Carbs (g): 19
• Protein (g): 12

Lettuce, cheese, and some kind of meat.
When I consume thee my hunger retreats
2 for $0.99…why that can’t be beat.
I cherish you, Jack In The Box taco.

Sometimes I eat in, sometimes I drive through.
It matters not, as long as there’s you.
Radiating more grease than all of Motley Crue…
You delight me, Jack In The Box taco.

Neither healthy nor nutritious,
To my intestines quite pernicious,
What gas, what heartburn that you dish us,
Yet I still seek you out, Jack In The Box Taco.

And so I find you thus deserving
Though your ingredients are unnerving
Of this healthy prose I’m serving
In your name, Jack In The Box Taco.

We’re all affected by our surroundings. I wrote the following based on my observations of some of the people in my neighborhood a while back, but have only shared it once, beatnick-style on a street corner in San Francisco with some good friends. Many of you already know what I mean, and for God’s sake, don’t take this seriously…

We find them with big sunglasses,
We find them at ease amongst the masses,
We found them in all our marketing classes,
And so the Marina Girls went running.

The jukebox always knows their favorite songs
Inised a gentle monument filled with much that’s wrong.
The time arrived, decisions made, that they should move along,
And so the Marina Girls went running.

They stop benevolently to pat the stranger’s dog.
It won’t guarantee their affection, but it’s warmer company than the fog.
But attentions are usurped as the executive parks his hog,
And so the Marina Girls went running.

So fulfilling are their cell-phone strolls all down Union Street.
And trips to overcrowded bars that make it all complete.
We might sympathize with all of this, were it slightly more discreet,
And so the Marina Girls went running.

You can see them from the windows indulging their adoption of Pinot Noir.
It’s smooth and oh so beautifully contained, mirrors of what they are.
Minds whose deepest perplexity is where to park their car,
And so the Marina Girls went running.

Turns out Piper, Morgan, Keely, and Jenn
Are all going up to Tahoe again.
One’s boyfriend drives a bimmer, he’s a man amongst the men.
And so the Marina Girls went running.

It’s double, it’s nonfat, it’s mocha, it’s soy.
It’s a crafty backwards hat inspiring affections for a boy.
It’s carrying gym accessories that bring amounts of joy,
And so the Marina Girls went running.