Stagnation's a bitch. Especially when taken together with uncertainty and lack of fulfilment. It's the sureshot prescription to send you over the edge. So why am I, I wonder, still kicking?
I hate my job. There, I said it. And it's not because I don't like doing what I do, because I love it. It's just...
The new city is also starting to get on my nerves. It would've tolerable if I had something to look forward to. Don't even have that.
What can I say?
Life's a bitch... and then you die. (Thanks Bajwa, but I prefer this version over "... fuck hard")
"Did he leave the building, can he come to the phone? Calling Elvis..."
Mark Knopfler is a very very talented musician. In case you don'k know, Mark is the voice and the wailing guitar that is Dire Straits. And he tells you "...that ain't working, thats the way you do it, you play the guitar on the Em Tee Vee... Money for nothing, and chicks for free!"
Free indeed.
So it's five months to magic number 24, and I'm still no closer to finding a girl. Seriously considering surgery now. Cosmetic, stomach stapling... who cares, as long as all this excess flab gets the fuck out. And the worst part is, my lazy fucking self won't lift its ass out of the bed all day now.
Yipee!
Discovered recently that I can't tell a joke to save my life. I think it's genetic. That would be convenient... blame it on Daddy. How Oedipal of you, someone would say.
Oh who am I kiding, who even talks like that anymore?
P.S. If you're reading this and you know who you are, clap your hands and repeat to yourself, "My new year's resolution will be to stop hiding in the closet and get a life." Christ! Closet crushes are so 1960s.
Maria would have my head for saying that!
