i make a pretty good living. i'm not braggin'. i'm just sayin' is all. i mean i'm not allergic to money, and if a brother is going to live in this town and enjoy it he gots to get P.A.I.D.
look the punchline to this whole story is that i'm at one of these so-called crossroads, or at least fast approaching one. you've heard it all before so no need to read further. oh, rob, you might want to because there is some info at the end about a pot procurement when i get back.
so today my boss is giving me the old annual review. . .you're a great employee. . .blah blah blah. . . the sky is the limit. . .you know the drill. anyhoo, at the end of it i walked away with a couple of solid conclusions:
1. i don't know a single happily married couple on the other side of their fifth wedding anniversary. now i'm no fancy big city lawyer, but i do know a pattern when i see one. so knowing what i know, how does a fella in good conscience tell his lady he loves her when science tells him there's a expiry date on that label? man. there ain't no easy answers, are there?
2. sooner or later i'm going to have to sell the rest of my soul to my job, or hop on a harely and ride across the country. i mean say what you want about happy mediums, but the truth is this town doesn't tolerate them so well. people on the west coast: i invite your comments.
3. why the hell do i have to get sick the night my lady gets back into town? i'll tell you why, because murphy's law is as real as gravity.
4. how many of your friends would spend their last dime to bail your sorry ass out of jail? seriously now. okay, that's how many friends you have in this world. not counting my dad or my lady, i have one. no, two, that i know of.
good night ladies.
and rob, about the herkweed. listen i'm gonna drop two benjamins when i get back and you can just take a cut out of that if that's cool. and yes, this time i'm serious.
look the punchline to this whole story is that i'm at one of these so-called crossroads, or at least fast approaching one. you've heard it all before so no need to read further. oh, rob, you might want to because there is some info at the end about a pot procurement when i get back.
so today my boss is giving me the old annual review. . .you're a great employee. . .blah blah blah. . . the sky is the limit. . .you know the drill. anyhoo, at the end of it i walked away with a couple of solid conclusions:
1. i don't know a single happily married couple on the other side of their fifth wedding anniversary. now i'm no fancy big city lawyer, but i do know a pattern when i see one. so knowing what i know, how does a fella in good conscience tell his lady he loves her when science tells him there's a expiry date on that label? man. there ain't no easy answers, are there?
2. sooner or later i'm going to have to sell the rest of my soul to my job, or hop on a harely and ride across the country. i mean say what you want about happy mediums, but the truth is this town doesn't tolerate them so well. people on the west coast: i invite your comments.
3. why the hell do i have to get sick the night my lady gets back into town? i'll tell you why, because murphy's law is as real as gravity.
4. how many of your friends would spend their last dime to bail your sorry ass out of jail? seriously now. okay, that's how many friends you have in this world. not counting my dad or my lady, i have one. no, two, that i know of.
good night ladies.
and rob, about the herkweed. listen i'm gonna drop two benjamins when i get back and you can just take a cut out of that if that's cool. and yes, this time i'm serious.
VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
Ok, I didn't jump on a harley and ride out into the sunset...but yeah, I fucking bailed.
I took one look down the road my life was on and realized...I was already dead.
I quit my job, packed what I could fit into a minivan, and drove out into the sunset.
I wouldn't say that Houston, Texas is the mecca of the happy medium...but I'd say it moves slow enough for me to at least reach for it.