I find my time on the interweb to be somewhat frustrating. As limitless as your queries can be and as close as it bring us together, we are still a million miles away.
The one I write for knows who I'm talking about. *hugz* JackassJimmy is still waiting for the people at the lottery to call him back because the private jet company needs payment by Friday.
In other news...
Days at the Agency have been seasoned somewhat with unrest. While I have not had to disarm or take anyone down recently, there is a feeling in the air which makes me uneasy. Maybe it's to much Phil Collins, I mean is there such a thing?
32 doesn't feel a whole lot older than 31. However the fact that there was not even the remote possibilities of naked ladies, twenty-something women or getting arrested were not in the cards for my birthday, kind of made me sad. In many ways I long to be back in that sleepy little Minnesotan town, where the beers were cheap, the drinks were cheaper and life moved at a much slower pace. Whoever set the pace for the East Coast should be killed. We're a society of caffeine and other substance-fueled zombies, concerned with deadlines, shift-changes and all things relating to Big Brother, the almighty dollar and Britney Spears.
Sometimes though when the low roar of people driving past my house at 5am to get to work wakes me, it saddens me and it makes it hard to get out of bed. We were not put on this Earth to live like this. Somewhere along the way, things got very, very fucked up.