This just in…

2003, the Year of My Ass, sucked. Hitler balls.

That is about as profane as I like to get here on Rapid Eye Reality.

Perhaps I should’ve known. January of 2003 was full of plane crashes and young volunteer firefighter hottie one upsmanship parties (I still think my wife wishes I had some turnout gear). Perhaps that month should’ve been a tipoff.

But, no. I was a naive young pup. I thought by winning Best of Show in the National Headliner Awards, I could somehow skirt the impending doom that was the Year of My Ass. And don’t forget the Hitler balls.

So, here in chronological order are the top…um…four reasons 2003 sucked (with my apologies to the ensuing crowd).

1) Otis falls on face. Bleeding ensues–Something about the physics of blood pumping and my tendency toward falling led to this early Spring calamity. I still have the scar to show for it.

2) Otis accused of racism. Corporate silliness ensues–Mumble, grumble, mumble grumble. That’s about all I can say about that.

3) Dad’s brain explodes. Three surgeries ensue–While this was this worst thing that’s ever happened in my life (thankfully), it has turned out okay. I just saw my dad and he’s looking really good for a guy who lost most of his left frontal lobe and almost died.

4) Friend finds faith in false freedom, falls on face, feels fucked. Foot up ass ensues— This is still a sensitive subject. I may be the only one who is sensitive about it, but it’s still sensitive. Suffice it to say, it’s a royal fuckshow of the first order. Someday I’ll write all about it. But for now…fuck.

So, there ya go. Four reasons (in too little detail) why 2003 was down on its knees and sucking like a champ. That’s not to mention the suffering my friend Cappy is going through right now with his family.

There were some good things, though. I got to hang with the best of friends and family on a couple different occasions. I did win that big award. My dad did survive a massive and certainly life threatening brain…thing. I met some good people. Some other people found themselves and introduced us to themselves. Other people, already good friends, proved to be better friends.

But, on balance, I could’ve done without the Year of My Ass.

Adversity teaches us, however, to appreciate the things in life we take for granted. Family. Honesty. Talent. Etc.

To those who know I love them, thank you for knowing. For those who suspect I don’t, you’re wrong. For those who want me to love them, stop trying so hard. And for those who hate, fuck you and your mother.

Hallmark bought that one.

I’m actually happier than I might sound. Tonight I plan to find 2004 and I hope for it to embrace me with a hug and open-mouthed kiss.

Until then, the Year of My Ass can kiss mine.

Brad Willis

Brad Willis is a writer based in Greenville, South Carolina. Willis spent a decade as an award-winning broadcast journalist. He has worked as a freelance writer, columnist, and professional blogger since 2005. He has also served as a commentator and guest on a wide variety of television, radio, and internet shows.

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