I scream at people in cars.
I give and receive the finger from cement trucks.
I am downright nasty and surly to the crappy assholes at The Laborers Union.
Traffic halts as if its posing for a horrid hotel room painting.
Taking the Lord's name in vain has lost all of its creativity.
I sulk miserably in the van, gaining weight, feeling the ache of my hips expanding. I keep expecting an Antarctic alien dog to crack through my pelvic bone.
As long as it takes over the wheel for a while.
Yeah, today I just drove non-stop from 8am-5pm in all that new construction traffic.
It simply sucks.
No, but I am glad that guy at the country club got his documents delivered to him before his tee time.
That was pretty cool.
I brought a Vietnamese sandwich to The Annoyance to watch Flames and Blazes, a musical set in an unburnable hotel on New Year's Eve 1928 in Chicago. It's playful and silly and at times peculiar, and I really liked it.
I caught up with friends, drank beer, smiled, laughed, good-timed. It was great to see Mick, Jen, Ellen, Lilly, Chris, Brian, Conner, Ken, Jet, Angela, Tyler, Tim, Vanessa, Dunbar.
So here's the quandary. How do I rate today?
The first nine hours were miserable, the last nine excellent.
Well, how did the day end?
Let's see.
I watched a Forensic Files about a South Carolina man who murdered women and stole their clothes.
I ate saltines with swiss cheese.
I masturbated to pornography from the 1980's.
Verdict: Loss
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