Yeti, yeti, yeti... I love you, but you've got to relax, my brother. No need to be so excitable and highstrung. You're all rage-y, like some kind of monster, and you are not your Best Self. The arctic climates are supposed to chill your nerves. Isn't that what Doc Carter said? I can hear him now with his booming Doc Carter voice:
"Go, yeti. Live in the arctic climates. The frigid air there will cool your excitable temperament, and your anger shall melt, and ye shall have seven wives." Listen to Doc Carter for once, yeti. Shave regularly and listen to those zen tapes. Stop battling the naked twins.
Look yourself in the mirror. Like what you see? No? That's because you're a mess.
Think about companionship. Isn't nice to have a friend who shares your interests? I'm talking about somebody that you don't maul and drag back to your cave.
What about helping people? You could serve them drinks on an airline. See the world. All while wearing an apron and a smile. I know how much you like aprons... and smiles.
Look at all these little things of you.
This awkwardness you feel, it's hereditary. Don't worry about it.
Get out from under the table, breathe in the crisp howling frozen winds, and things will be all right. Later, yeti.
