Alright, I'm sick of getting wood every time I see my last journal entry, so it's time for a new one.
Apparently, I was eligible for unemployment after six months of not working even though I quit my job. However, now that it's been much longer, I have no income for last year, meaning I'd get no benefits.
However, having no income means big financial aid if I enroll in school. I'm thinking Art History. And while I wait for classes to start at PSU....The Bartending Academy awaits. I guess I'll be a cadet. Maybe they'll have obstacle courses and a senior drill instructor who will force me to do shots of tequila every time I fuck up. I imagine he'll be so tough on me that I'll snap, and kill him in the end. The Bartending Academy court martial will be pretty open and shut, I'm sure.
It's like it already happened. Poor bastard. He was being tough on me because he wanted me to be a better bartender, you know? But I couldn't hack it and now he's dead and I'm gonna have to make myself someone's bitch to get cigarettes in prison. My waking hours filled with melancholy daydreams of martinis, sleazy bars, C++, salsa, white beaches with dark curvy women, brilliant blue skies mirrored in the lapping waters, and the warm, wet air that cradles you. Eventually, those sad daydreams will fade and hopefully, in time, I'll become accustomed to getting cornholed by a 300 pound man named Bubba, and I'll have no regrets about my life that might have been.
Apparently, I was eligible for unemployment after six months of not working even though I quit my job. However, now that it's been much longer, I have no income for last year, meaning I'd get no benefits.
However, having no income means big financial aid if I enroll in school. I'm thinking Art History. And while I wait for classes to start at PSU....The Bartending Academy awaits. I guess I'll be a cadet. Maybe they'll have obstacle courses and a senior drill instructor who will force me to do shots of tequila every time I fuck up. I imagine he'll be so tough on me that I'll snap, and kill him in the end. The Bartending Academy court martial will be pretty open and shut, I'm sure.
It's like it already happened. Poor bastard. He was being tough on me because he wanted me to be a better bartender, you know? But I couldn't hack it and now he's dead and I'm gonna have to make myself someone's bitch to get cigarettes in prison. My waking hours filled with melancholy daydreams of martinis, sleazy bars, C++, salsa, white beaches with dark curvy women, brilliant blue skies mirrored in the lapping waters, and the warm, wet air that cradles you. Eventually, those sad daydreams will fade and hopefully, in time, I'll become accustomed to getting cornholed by a 300 pound man named Bubba, and I'll have no regrets about my life that might have been.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
aaraa:
and why does your last journal entry make you horny?? haha
calvers:
Gotta hate that cornholing....just keep thinking of wonderwoman and trying to work out the calorific value of tequila worms.