Sunday, February 20, 2005

How bizarre

that on the nights I don't drink and become pensive, I seem to be more sad than on the nights many potables pass through my lips.

As I sat at the pub yesterday drinking Bud Light like they were never going to make it again, not once did my mind wander to worry world.

Tonight, as I downed glass after glass of diet orange soda (REPRESENT) I wished I had a job where I made more money. That I didn't owe more than the national deficit to Great Lakes Higher Edcation Financing Corp. for a fucking degree I have yet to use. Wishing I could aford cable tv and internet service. Wishing I could buy meat and veggies in the same week.

Wishing I could maybe date again before I find I layer of sedimentary rock on my wiener.

Wishing that Howard Stern would just shut the fuck up.

Wishing I didn't have to be at work in t-minus 5 hours and 48 minutes.

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