And my, and my, and my, and my, and my, and my, and my, and my, MY HEART IS SLOWLY DRIED UP!.

4:48 am, February 8, 2005

Hey, guess what? I tripped, fell, and completely forgot to buy Modest Mouse tickets. So, there you have it, the one decent show coming to town (besides Kings Of Leon - too fucking bad they have to open for fucking overblown, overpriced, over-old U2) and I douche the whole thing up. Yet another byproduct of the Keystone Ice. I tell you, I try to get out and they PULL ME BACK IN!!!

So, I've got a problem on my hands a little bit. It's been pretty well fucking documented that I'm WELL behind the 600 mile pace at the moment. See, if I want to get a good run in, I gotta get my ass up at 4am (because I'm NOT running around here in the daylight - that's all I need is some little Middle School punkass popping a cap halfway through mile two). If I want to get up at 4am I gotta be in bed by 10:30 at the LATEST.

And, of course, if I want to be in bed by 10:30 at the LATEST, I gotta stop smokin' trees and drinkin' beers and buttrapin' the elderly to the tune of the Jailhouse Rock.

It was so much easier when I didn't have control of the TV. Yeah, that's the ticket; in my dad's house, he watched shit. He watches Survivor and CBS comedies and CSI and (hoo, deep breath aaaaaannnnnndddd release) I think he started watching American Idol last year. Tapdancing Christ. My brother's not much better; thank you NHL lockout. Therefore, in order to watch a sporting event or anything halfway decent (which really wasn't much the last year or so; cable comedy mostly), I'm in my room. And, as I stop giving a fuck (or when Chapelle's Show is in reruns), I can go to bed at a quarter to 7 and have all fucking morning to fart around and run to my heart's content. But, since I've moved out, all that has ceased to be a problem. I get my Sonics and my O.C. and my weird guy on channel 28 who draws REALLY nasty frumpy women who wear skin-tight, skin-colored body-suits. Seriously, it was like putting a long black wig on me in a skin-tight, skin-colored body-suit. I mean, come on, you could find any stripper on the corner who'd do it for the same price, why'd you have to get your fatbody mother involved?

Now I'm on a deadline. Fifteen minutes to five, and I've gotta take a shit. I hate to shit and run, but ...

So, like at least a 40-Sack should hit my doorstep by Friday. Just in time for my grandfather's 75th birthday party at the Eagles. Gotta love an old-people eating-establishment / group lodge. Man, I hope I can do some dancing, after all, I do have a way with women over 60

Current Mood: I dig those styles they wear
Current Music: Bob Dylan - Tangled Up In Blue