what, it is already 11:06?
amazing how i can keep myself entertained by writing gibberish.
to whom? to whom?
what do i care.
maybe someone will get a laugh, and let loose a fart.
I don't have much to say, yet once I get rolling, there is no end.
No end to my madness, my immature mind.

Oh yes, my cousin kevin is getting a surgery, again, on his shoulder.
crazy kids with their snowboards.
i hope all goes well.
poor kid, has to sleep on a chair for awhile.
it seems the first surgery didn't go well.

he'll be ok,
he's a good kid.

but damn, good kids never make it out on top.
nice guys always get dicked over.

such a pessimist you say?
well fuckin' A, call me one, label me one, take out a labeling gun and label me you bastards.
what do I care?

i'll still call myself a realist, and at most a psudo-pessimist.
half-full, half-empty, it is THE same.
look at it one way, look it at another, do as you please, no one will stop you, no one really cares.

i seem to be in what some might call a "pissy" mood.
i suppose I am eh?
har har-

well just my random mood swings.

11:12,
damn I just missed the 11:11, where I should have made a wish?
"cock to that"

what good are wishes?
wishes are just lofty hopes.

what single wish that i have made came true?
well perhaps a couple, but dammit, i'd at least like to break even.
bloody bastards.
even-steven.

i should sleep. sleep so that i may wake up tommorow and repeat another accursed day.
i shall wake up with a smile and stab myself with a pencil.
i shall go into work, stare at the monitor and watch the blinking cursor.
i will go take cig breaks with good ol' chris and say, "fuck this and fuck that" "fucking a to z"
i'll have my earl grey tea and chat on korea link and pass sometime.
and yes, it is thursday, happy hour thursday.
I am sick to hell of happy hour,
happy hour should goto hell, happy hour should die.
alas, how can the el presidente miss happy hour?
when he hasn't missed one in..what? 4 months?
after all, always a good time.
good ol' time with the crew. buncha phonies, the biggest phony, would be el presidente.
perhaps I'll be loud and rowdy tommorow, yelling out incoherent things.

ah- hahaha, i sound so bitter and angry.
i suppose it is better than being sad.

"what you say!?"
escapist? i am running?
oh fuck you.

i think i'm done for that night,
god forbid anyone read this.

"a plague upon all your familes!"
-- mercutio
i think.

good f-ing night
and accept my profuse apologies,
and here is a middle finger, just for you.