wise man
40 hours a week
40 ounces a day
if pain is a teacher, it must teach a lesson. and if we run away from pain, we must be running away from the truth. and i look at my life, identifying all of my pain as self-inflicted. not only the physical scars.
i scratched a car at work. so i'm probably going to be out of $500. no. i am out of $500. it's certain.
let's back up.
first, i lost my key card, so i swiped my bosses. she was kind of ticked about that. and when i was driving the mini van i was stressed out about stupid shit.
that's when i found some real shit to get stressed out about. even more stupid than the other shit.
yeah, i side swiped a fucking sign.
the owner of the vehicle saw and he rushed over and grabbed the sign. he motioned for me to back up and then i fucking sideswiped the sign again. and again. and again. basicly, the side pannel is all fucked up. i should have known better than to trust the vehicle owner. he probably set me up, the fucker.
i wanted to punch him in the face like the little victim he was. he looked kind of like john denver. if only john denver was a cock sucker.
then my insurance company called me and told me they're going to totaly my car because it's cheaper than trying to fix it. it's just body work, but it's totaled. they're going to hand me a check for maybe $1k. i wouldn't doubt it.
"my car is a collector's item," i said.
"no its not," the insurance bitch told me.
who is she to argue? my car is a fucking 1972 with origional interior. the engine fucking hums, considering it's age. and the body would be mint if it wasn't for the fact that i've been driving it for the past four years.
fuck! you have no idea how much i fucking hate my fucking unobservant oblivious ass.
last night, becca, joe and andrew and i went to see hitch hicker's guide. fucking rad movie. then we went to ihop and smoked. god bless smoking. and we're planning on getting together again tonight and getting drunk. after today, i'm going to need it.
40 ounces a day
if pain is a teacher, it must teach a lesson. and if we run away from pain, we must be running away from the truth. and i look at my life, identifying all of my pain as self-inflicted. not only the physical scars.
i scratched a car at work. so i'm probably going to be out of $500. no. i am out of $500. it's certain.
let's back up.
first, i lost my key card, so i swiped my bosses. she was kind of ticked about that. and when i was driving the mini van i was stressed out about stupid shit.
that's when i found some real shit to get stressed out about. even more stupid than the other shit.
yeah, i side swiped a fucking sign.
the owner of the vehicle saw and he rushed over and grabbed the sign. he motioned for me to back up and then i fucking sideswiped the sign again. and again. and again. basicly, the side pannel is all fucked up. i should have known better than to trust the vehicle owner. he probably set me up, the fucker.
i wanted to punch him in the face like the little victim he was. he looked kind of like john denver. if only john denver was a cock sucker.
then my insurance company called me and told me they're going to totaly my car because it's cheaper than trying to fix it. it's just body work, but it's totaled. they're going to hand me a check for maybe $1k. i wouldn't doubt it.
"my car is a collector's item," i said.
"no its not," the insurance bitch told me.
who is she to argue? my car is a fucking 1972 with origional interior. the engine fucking hums, considering it's age. and the body would be mint if it wasn't for the fact that i've been driving it for the past four years.
fuck! you have no idea how much i fucking hate my fucking unobservant oblivious ass.
last night, becca, joe and andrew and i went to see hitch hicker's guide. fucking rad movie. then we went to ihop and smoked. god bless smoking. and we're planning on getting together again tonight and getting drunk. after today, i'm going to need it.