I need a job but I don't want one. This thing on my arm is probably skin cancer. I'm slapped by heat every time I leave the house. I didn't get a single e-mail today. No one can discover the origin of the Irish whip or what distinguishes an atomic legdrop from an ordinary legdrop though the legdrops look identical. Tom Cruise and Katie Holmes won't stop licking my face. Chinese Democracy still has no release date. The next pope will defect from the church, setting into motion Mideast chaos, WWIII, and the end of days, and the streets will run red with Rexella Van Impe's blood. The new Beck album is underwhelming. Hollywood still hasn't realized the untapped potential of Malcolm Jamal-Warner. I've wasted my life. This post sucks.
(excerpted from my one-man-show For Christ Sakes Why Won't Claire Huxtable Let the Man Eat Just One Hoagie?)
1 comment:
hey. Lets get cozy for awhile. You sound sad. Angry in fact. But c'mon, "Anger is a gift" right? Turn that frown upside down. Get Jeff Stinco'd if you have to. Just remember: When life gives you lemons, give life aids.
Wasted your life? What were you going to do with your life that was so damn important anyway? Be an astronaut? Play asteroids? Shit. Its all bullshit, all the way down. As I always say while looking very skinny in a mini skirt, "if it makes you happy, it can't be that bad. If it makes you happy, then why are you so sad". Then I lock myself in my room and turn the music up really loud. That will show them. Yeah, that will show them all.
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