Global Leap Day

Every fourth February the world celebrates Global Leap Day. Originally created by calendar stores in malls with the purpose of making their products add up correctly, Global Leap Day has become something more. Traditions have changed, and the day is no longer used merely for calendar calculation. February 29th mantra is simple: what happens on Leap Day, stays on Leap Day. Observers are free to throw caution to the wind and ignore all inhibitions. The day happens once every four years, so do it without remorse.

Given the opportunity to live a day without regret, here was my Global Leap Day in review...

The alarm clock took the day off. I slept in and felt little regret for allowing my internal clock to naturally wake me. My razor joined the alarm. Fuck shaving. I'm down with the clean cut look if the reward is a raise or a blow job. Next was the wardrobe. Pants are for suckers. Dress shirts are confining. Ties don't make sense. I slid into my finest silk bathrobe.

Before heading out, I packed provisions. Recognizing the key to any successful day is the occasional pull of hard alcohol, I filled my flask with high quality bourbon. Liquid courage has it's place in any situation. So do Ritz crackers. Fucking delicious. They came, too.

No Global Leap Day would be complete without a little gaming. The Xbox was carefully bundled in bubble wrap and loaded into a man-satchel filled with packing peanuts. My employer's conference room with projector was commandeered for the afternoon. The room was made available by canceling all the previously scheduled client meetings. Once I had my fill of video games on the big screen, and my tummy starting grumbling from hunger pangs, I called it quits in the office and ventured out for some food.

Lunch was served at the local steakhouse/gentlemen's club. The establishment happens to dish a succulent filet mignon. The naked ladies are a pleasant secondary attraction, but I find they are typically only interested in my money. Fortunately the meal gave me terrible gas, and after flatulating the hell out of my pants, I had to do little more to protect the Benjamins in my wallet.

Steak and tits weren't enough. I was craving a new adventure. A new high. Bath salts. Not sure who the first fucker was that chowed down on bath salt, but I can confirm it will fuck you. The ill-advised abuse of bathing product left me in a zombie trance. I lost a few hours. High as a kite and thirsty as hell, I was in desperate need of a beer.

Quick! To the local bar! More like a restaurant. Whatever the establishment classifies itself as, they serve tall, frosty beers. With my bath salty mouth quenched, I turned my attention to the hostess. She was smokin' hot. Hot hostess's looks and my intoxication led to my solicitation of her company for the evening. Ordinarily, local hangout etiquette dictates you avoid ruining bars by propositioning the staff, but today was Global Leap Day, so I could do no wrong. Despite this explanation, she turned me down outright.

After hot hostess broke my heart, I hurried to the next bar over and drastically lowered my standards. Fortunately my eyes found the drunkest, fat bar skeeze and after two shots and some begging I dragged her back to the bachelor pad. We made love. Or at least had sex. At a minimum it was heavy foreplay. Regardless, I was unapologetically premature. I had my two minutes of fun and it was time for her to leave. I politely asked her to get the fuck out.

My two minutes in heaven had made my tummy grumble. I was starving. Dinner was in order. Sushi was on the brain, and with a plethora of choices in the area, I decided to try a new restaurant. Roll after roll. I had about seven in all. I imagined the bill arriving and cringed. In celebration of Global Leap Day, I made the decision to dine and dash. I politely thanked the waitress and told her to pass my regards to the chef. I bolted into the night.

By now you know I'm full of shit. I didn't do half this crap...though...there's some truth to the flask thing. I spent Global Leap Day doing exactly what I always do on Wednesday: working, drinking, blogging, gaming. The weight of regret and consequence bind me to a reality that is instead of a reality that could be.

I could chew bath salts, but the consequence is brain damage. I could fart on a stripper, but the consequence is an abbreviated lap dance. I could fuck skeezey bar fatties, but the consequence is any number of venerable diseases.

It's the risk/reward of life. Game theory. Simple calculation. Probability decision making. Pick the situations with the highest chance of success. Stretch in the situations with the greatest reward.

Life is a game won only by calculated moves, strong resolve, and luck. Get to work.

xoxo,
ShavedGolf