Recently I have been spending a lot of time thinking about the places in my life that make me happy. As much time as the average American spends being miserable, we should really treasure the places that provide true happiness. There are some important criteria to be considered when I start to make a list of my happy places.
What generally makes me happy? I am a simple guy and I need only the basics: Food, comfort, companionship, warmth, quality service and a good opportunity to be lazy are necessary for a top-notch happy place. My bed is obviously a large front-runner when it comes to happy places. Anywhere that is literally designed for me to be as inactive as possible is obviously going to be great. I have often secretly hoped for some temporary debilitating injury that would require me to spend a good month in bed. I mean think about rolling up the TV and the fridge right next to bed. In addition, if you had to be bedridden there is some level of being waited-on that comes with it. Being bedridden is like immediately becoming so wealthy that you have a butler to do all of your non-bed-related activities. You know that would rock.
Also, my mom’s house provides all the makings of a quality happy place. For starters, there is a large fridge ripe for the plundering. There are also big couches for napping on and a mother to cook for me. I can’t think of any hotels that have better first class service for such a cheap price. There is nothing like being spoiled to make me happy. Plus it has to amp you up to be able to make a mess and then just leave it for mom. After all she misses being a “hands on mom.”
Quality happy places often need to overload my senses. Can you really think of a time that you were not happy in the presence of a huge big screen TV? Turn on some sports and you have a quality happy place anywhere. This may be the most versatile quality of a happy place. Think of all the miserable places that could be improved with a huge TV playing sports. Think of the wonderful ability to tune out your wife at the shopping mall because right in the middle of the GAP there is a huge TV with a recliner. MMMMM yeah.
And when it comes to happy places, there are few places in life that put me in a better mood than the drunken fun of whirlyball. I mean the camaraderie of crushing the other team. This blends perfectly with the greasy pizza and high quality beer to provide an intoxicating environment like few others. Anywhere I can drink and drive bumper cars is close to the happiest place on earth.
All of these previously mentioned places are good but not the best. In further analysis of places that can make me happy, I turned to the place I get all my answers to life’s questions: TV. The television constantly shows us many happy places. After researching many hours of rerun television, I have concluded the happiest place in the world is a good tavern. Think about it: there is Cheers, Moe’s, the Drunken Clam (Family Guy) and the place that Drew Carey always drinks in. In my life, I have many happy times with my fellow zillionaires at the TAV, the Shoe, The Brick, the Palace, The Owl and Thistle and so many more… I mean can anyone really remember not being happy in a good tavern?
A good tavern encompasses the best parts of all the other happy places in my life. There is quality food served up at my whim. The various bar games provide an opportunity to crush my friends and enemies. A good tavern will provide me with solid stools and couches for inactivity and a cheap place to sleep. Don’t even get me started on the sensory overload at a good sports bar. TVs in every direction and other people who care about the butt whooping my team is dishing out. I am starting to think that the tavern is the true high point of modern culture. First, there was the invention of fire, then the wheel came along, the TV and phone were big too, but all along we have gone to the tavern. It is the ultimate sanctuary combining all of the aspects of my happiness.
Finally, why would I ever leave a place that makes me happy? The happiness I find from my bed ends when the evil alarm clock goes off. Not only does it end, but the day is almost certainly going downhill from there with no chance of getting it back for a whole day. Eventually my mom inevitably gets sick of my lazy mooching and kicks me out the door to the harsh reality of my own adult life. Only the mighty tavern welcomes me without judgment or bias. As long as I can stay reasonably upright, they are happy to have me. When I leave my bed or my mom’s house the fun ends but when I leave the bar the drunkenness lasts for at least a few more hours. When it comes down to it happiness may be all about getting the best bang for my buck. HERE, HERE to the places that provides me with all I need and ask for so little in return.
I too find that my day usually nosedives once I leave the warm confines of my bed.
And I sometimes ponder how much happier I would be in life if I simply never got out of bed in the first place.
It is starting to make sense why my dad, now retired, basically spends 20 hours a day napping. It really makes retirement something to look forward to.
Yes, bed is wonderful. The tavern may outrank the bed on my list though. The tavern offers many things, from visual stimulation (in many ways hopefully) to the wonderful feeling of intoxication. Mix these two and add entertaining conversation, and I don’t think that it gets much better than that. Here, here, thank god for taverns.
First, congratulations Krusty on finally clicking on the little spellchecker button! I can put away my secret Krusty decoder ring and just read this, left to right, as is Western tradition. No consulting the English to Grunt dictionary every two sentences or so. (Yes, Grunt is an official language. See Tim Allen.)
But really, who I am to talk? I do wish this comment field had a built-in spellchecker. Oh snap, I just found it. It’s built into the web browser now under the edit menu.
But as far as your theory goes, I have an issue. How many taverns have Wifi? It’s a dealbreaker, I’m sorry.
Funny you mention wifi lion. I have recently found the greatest bar ever. It has wifi and is a block from my house. They carry 200 different beers and have an indoor camp fire. I’m thinking about moving my bed into the corner and calling it home.
Yes, this is true. I have been to this place that Krusty calls the “greatest bar ever”, and he’s pretty right on. Not only does it have a campfire and 200 types of beer, but it also has sweet hi def tvs and not many people. Basically, it is about as perfect as a tavern gets. This is actually the first time that I have contemplated moving to a completely different area for the sole purpose of being closer to a tavern.
As to this bar you speak of, I must concur. I’m not much of a bar girl myself, but if I were to pick one to call home away from home, this would be it. Only I still say they should sell packages of marshmallows behind the bar. And they could line up fire sticks along the wall, like pool cues. That fire pit just shouts out for a weenie roast! Now, that’s my kind of happy place.