Saturday, November 03, 2007
I've been better...


I think this poster is funny, but loneliness is only part of the soul-crushing depression I've been feeling lately. After all, I'm only lonely in the romantic relationship sense; I have friends and drinking buddies and people who are nice to me out of pity, so I'm usually only truly alone when I want to be. Or when I want to have sex. Yeah, no one's lining up for that.

But still, I have been none too chipper for a fortnight and a half. I think I need to find a nice drug to make me feel content all the time, one to make me forget that I'm old and fat and make an illegal alien salary (but worse, because I'm taxed on it).

Actually, that drug already exists. It's a miracle elixir by the name of alcohol, or as comedian Patton Oswalt calls it, "Pain go bye-bye juice". Unfortunately, I can't drive or work when I'm under its sweet sweet influence. And god damn it, those are the situations when I need it most!

For instance, I find driving to be infuriating. I want to be rich so I can just ride around and never brake for the morons who pull out in front of me. I'd still stop for red lights and such, but if someone pulled out in front of me I'd just run right into them. Seriously, HOW DARE some random fuckerdoodle assume "Oh, I can't wait the two extra seconds for this car to pass. He'll just have to brake for me." Not if I had the money to replace my car several times a day!

And my job....Talk about a place where I need to be drunk. We have a new ignorant redneck manager they transferred over from another store. She is without a doubt the most unpleasant human being I've ever been forced by law to not kill. She's stupid to the point of being a walking parody of herself. Everyone hates her and I, being the consummate professional at work, viciously mock her to the cashiers I'm supposed to be supervising. When she walks away I say, imitating her trailer park accent, "Damn, I gotta find my corn cob pipe! Where is that thang?" She has one of those tight perms with a bad dye job, the kind you see at the supermarket pushing a cart full of instant potatoes and Jeno's Pizza Rolls. She is far too unintelligent to have authority over any person who doesn't drool into a cup strapped to his chin.

Maybe I will take up heroin after all. I'd lose weight and wouldn't be such a load, plus if I was unable to drive or work because of heroin addiction, I'd be too high to care. Expect me to be skinny and blissful by spring.


11 Comments:

Blogger Scarlet Hip said...

You can't afford heroin, fuckerdoodle.

Blogger Tits McGee said...

Clearly, you need to nestle your sweet, overburdened head in my bosom.

C'mere, honey.

Blogger Übermilf said...

This was the most inspiring, uplifting post I've read in a long time.

Blogger Nick said...

I support your using heroin. Also, don't ever use the word fortnight again, it makes you seem gay.

And you know me... expert on all things gay.

Sweet, sweet smack.

Blogger tiff said...

Fuckerdoodle is now in my vocabulary. I thank you from the bottom on my black little heart for this new word.

Blogger Al Sensu said...

See if you can get a better paying job. Then you could at least afford whores.

Blogger lily said...

hey! i like pizza rolls. also, have you considered "volunteering" for sleep experiments? they pay really well...

Blogger Übermilf said...

It sounds like nobody, myself included, offered you any sympathy. Well, except for Tits.

I'll chat with you privately, if I see you around.

Blogger NotSoccer Mom said...

awww... we all love you! that's why we keep comin' back!

Blogger Kate said...

being depressed bites. and a lack of sex life and that'll make anyone suicidal. i went six years without getting laid and practically lost my damn mind. of course, then i started therapy, went on meds, and hallelujah finally got laid, and i'm still a fucking nutso. go figure. lol.

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