october time

I hate cell phones. It's so stressful being interrupted at any random moment, and being pestered until you respond. Granted, they come in handy very often, I still wish I didn't have one. Land lines. That's where it's at. I want a damn answering machine.

*BEEP* "Hey, this is Kelso. In a few seconds, you'll be talking to my answering machine. At my home. On a tape. Will I be checking it soon? Probably not. Will I check it when I want to? You bet your ass. Patience is a virtue, motherfucker. Now have a nice day." *BEEP*

Damn straight.

Zombie pub crawl was great. Duh.


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4lm4nIiKXoE





If you don't like Hum you're retarded.

I'm more at home in my Galaxie

I have been getting more hours at work lately. That is nice. Knowing you can pay your bills is a good feeling. Knowing you can pay them and still have enough money for the pub crawl is a better feeling.


Here is today:


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=GbqJ-EwezTo



That will do.

Equilibrium; inebriated

Just got off a 9 hour shift at Dbros. The lack of sleep didn't help much (neither did the black guys yelling outside my window at 4 am), but here I am. I made it.

I am going to write about something that makes me happy today.

Ferrets.

I fucking love my ferrets. They are out bouncing around with their mouths open as I type. Wonderful.

And soon I will have my moped back. Fixed. That will be a good day too. Now, if I could just find a $1,000 bill, my life would become exponentially better. But who's wouldn't I guess.

Anyways. I'm done today.



This is today's song. Cursive. Classic Cursive.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9olfqw7wX48&feature=related

"to prove you still feel, you only feel sorry for yourself.
Now get on that cross, that's all you're good for."

Weak

4 hours until I have to open Dunn Bros. For some reason I have a hard time sleeping when I know I need sleep.

I'm hoping that I will start to feel sleepy while typing this. It's not working yet.

This has been a tough few weeks for me. Not the worst by far, but pretty tough yet. It's frustrating when you work hard, yet don't feel like you have much to show for it. I always feel silly bitching about things that are wrong in my life, when I know there is so much good, but still. As Blake Schwarzenbach from Jawbreaker puts it "I feel like I'm dragging a refrigerator down a dirt road in hell". Alright, so maybe it's not THAT bad, but I appreciate the analogy none the less.

I decided to put this out there for all to see. That being said, keep your comments to yourself. I don't want to hear about it, good or bad. I'd rather just assume that nobody reads this. It's better that way. And to any relatives or people who might be offended by my opinions, language, or lack of religious persuasion... leave now. Just don't read this. I don't want to disappoint you, and I definitely don't want to hear about it. And that's that last thing I'll say about that.

Geez, now that I got the rules laid out....  Like I really have anything that controversial or important to say anyways. Like I said, I'm doing this for me. I just want another outlet.


I'm going to wrap this up now. I'll put the interesting shit I think about on here later. Till then.

Welp

I don't really know what to do here. I used to blog in high school, but it was super lame and emo. It's so easy to just write about what bugs you on these things... I'm going to try not to do that this time. And I don't really like the idea of everybody on the internet ever being able to see something I put personal thoughts on either. So we'll see where this goes, no promises on anything. It would be nice to have a place to speak my mind more, since doing that on facebook often sparks a series of heated or ignorant comments, and tends to cause more harm than anything. So yeah. We'll see how honest I get on this thing. Anyways. For some reason it's quarter to two, and since I am house sitting for my mom, it means I have an extra 25 minutes to drive tomorrow. I should probably sleep. Squidbillies is a stupid fucking show anyways.