RIVFACT: Riv never has enough money to cover his tastes.
It’s six days away. My powers of supreme overlord of the entire Internet grow ever weaker as we get closer to Valentine’s Day. I hate it. Badly. I bet since I’m like one of the only two single people at work, I’ll be working V-Day, too, which means I get to watch happy couples walk by at the mall - which means I’m going to feel like they’re laughing at me. They’re all laughing at me. It’s like that movie “Carrie.” THEY’RE ALL GONNA LAUGH AT YOU!!! I wish I had grenades. I wish they all had genital herpes. Fuck it. I hope all of you in relationships BREAK UP on Valentine’s Day, and I hope at least a few people, break up right in front of me, so I CAN be the one laughing! Then you will feel my pain!
Speaking of work, I’m picking up another co-worker’s shift tomorrow. The more money in my pocket, the better. It turns out that the ticket I got for that priest hitting MY car from behind (although I still don’t understand how the fuck I can get a ticket when the guy hit ME), is going to cost $120. I hope that fate repays the fact a priest hit my car and I got a ticket for it by killing the motherfucking Pope. He’s already half-dead anyway. To make my money tighter, WWE RAW is coming down here, and I ALWAYS go when it’s live. Unfortunately I have no one to go with me. I’ll probably buy two tickets, anyway, and if someone doesn’t come I’ll sell the extra ticket or something. I’d prefer the company of a female, of course. I don’t think men like doing anything with men, they just go places with other guys because there aren’t any girls around. Of course a lot of girls don’t like wrestling - you’d think maybe the premise of men beating each other up would like turn them on or something. Brandi used to go with me to RAW. Then again she was a lesbian. There goes that idea.
I think I’m just sexually repressed. How many times do I say that in my journal a week? Probably a lot. I’ve lost count. I’ve lost count of a lot of things. It’s 10:30 and it feels like it’s four in the morning. It might be because I got to bed at a decent time last night and did some exercise for the first time in a long time. I don’t know. I don’t have motivation - yet another phrase I constantly say in the journal. Is it because my life goes into reruns? Probably.
Speaking of work, I’m picking up another co-worker’s shift tomorrow. The more money in my pocket, the better. It turns out that the ticket I got for that priest hitting MY car from behind (although I still don’t understand how the fuck I can get a ticket when the guy hit ME), is going to cost $120. I hope that fate repays the fact a priest hit my car and I got a ticket for it by killing the motherfucking Pope. He’s already half-dead anyway. To make my money tighter, WWE RAW is coming down here, and I ALWAYS go when it’s live. Unfortunately I have no one to go with me. I’ll probably buy two tickets, anyway, and if someone doesn’t come I’ll sell the extra ticket or something. I’d prefer the company of a female, of course. I don’t think men like doing anything with men, they just go places with other guys because there aren’t any girls around. Of course a lot of girls don’t like wrestling - you’d think maybe the premise of men beating each other up would like turn them on or something. Brandi used to go with me to RAW. Then again she was a lesbian. There goes that idea.
I think I’m just sexually repressed. How many times do I say that in my journal a week? Probably a lot. I’ve lost count. I’ve lost count of a lot of things. It’s 10:30 and it feels like it’s four in the morning. It might be because I got to bed at a decent time last night and did some exercise for the first time in a long time. I don’t know. I don’t have motivation - yet another phrase I constantly say in the journal. Is it because my life goes into reruns? Probably.