I'm sick, and when that happens I get depressed. I feel bad, like a flat spare tire. Thanks for nothing, flaty! I called in sick and feel like shit for doing it. Isn't that stupid? That's what sick time is all about. Head feels like a block of cement? Call in sick. Throat filled with Brill-o pads? Call in sick. Coughing up shades of grey? Call in sick. Have the energy of an obese geriatric? Call in sick. You know, I don't think I've ever seen an obese geriatric. Hmm... This past week wasn't too enlightening either. My wife lost the stone on her wedding ring and we're too poor to replace it. My creativity has reached an all time low, with only my stupid comic strip maintaining my interest. Yesterday was another uneventful sex day, with my wife playing the part of a cardboard cut-out. Turns out she's ragging today, so she thinks that has something to do with it. So, I'm alone, sick, and tired. I have family visiting tomorrow, but I'm certain I'll have to cancel. Hell, I may have to call in sick tomorrow! That bums me out more. I don't know why I write this shit into this empty void called cyberspace. I've had shit luck trying to connect with people on this site. It's all about the porn, isn't it? If you're not showcasing your naked attributes, then why should I connect with you, mister? Well, I like my privates right where they are. I'm not that much of an exhibitionist. I guess I should be more realistic. A popularity contest has never been much for me (see: high school). I'm tired of my job, too. I don't know what other options are available to me, but my wife found one in a paper the other day and we both agreed that the schedule wouldn't work out for me. It paid three dollars more an hour than my current job, for starters! I work four tens, Friday-Monday. This new job listing was the typical Monday-Friday, eight hours a day. I went to college and I still have to weigh this shit. Ah, who cares? As I mentioned above, I'm sick and depressed. So, just ignore this shit. Time to hack and cough up some grey-green shit. Bye.
rys:
Sick? Depressed? You need a hug! Or a puppy. Sweet sweet tender puppy. Mmmm... puppy and chutney sandwich.... tasty....