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1-30-03 Divorce!!!
Jack Daniels and I are not on speaking terms right now. That fucker's burned me one too many times, and I am putting my foot down. I'm having an affair with Maker's Mark at the moment. But don't tell Jack; I'm sure we'll work this out.
So, blah. Blah blee blee bloo blah bloo. I realized that yesterday's post was way too serious and contemplative for what I'm trying to accomplish here. Besides, Dave Attell, dadadadada. So please disregard all that in place of this very philosophic statement: You only live once. And in spite of my lack of a spine and raging drunkenness, I'm happier than I've ever been. Thus, in the words of my idol Denis Leary, pull up your pants. Here's to Boston! Here's to Tampa Bay! Here's to sex! Here's to secondhand smoke! Here's to fucking Verizon, who's been screwing me out of money since September! Cheers!
I'm supposed to write a personal narrative for my speech class (I'm taking speech, because I am an idiot) discussing my philosophy of life. This is something that causes me a great deal of discomfort, considering the fact that my only philosophy is: Whatever I'm doing, don't do it. I think if you ever find yourself in any of the following situations, you are in no position to be giving spiritual advice:
1. If your internal monologue repeatedly contains the phrase, "Okay, where am I?"
2. If you've been spending the past two weeks avoiding your boyfriend rather than breaking up with him, because you don't have the balls to say, "You make me miserable," "It pisses you off when I'm happy," or "You cheat on me."
3. If everything you eat tastes like bourbon, and you don't know why.
4. If you pour all of your excess energy into hating Tom Brokaw and Brooke Burke.
5. If you have a shitload of work to do, but instead you're currently sitting in front of your roommate's computer wearing a T-shirt that says EVERYONE LOVES AN IRISH GIRL and plotting ways to get back at your landlord for a) not fixing your heat and b) busting into your room while you're sleeping and insisting on having a twenty-minute conversation with you while you're not wearing any pants.
I dunno. Maybe I should consider myself lucky. I have a roof over my head and plenty of frozen bagels to eat. And Tom Brokaw really is annoying. Yeah. I think everything's turning out okay.
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All this crap (c) Me, even though it's just meandering, self-serving bullshit.
