I’ve got a bad feeling in my soul. My phone is fucked. It’s an iphone, and I recently discussed how fucking genius apple is at making disposable technology, so I know I’m screwed. I know there’s nothing they can do. I know some smug dick is just gonna shake his head and kind of giggle to himself and look down and say it’s out of his hands. AND I know that I’ve got the choice of going back to some bullshit abacus-like ancient piece of crap phone or shelling out what? Five hundred bucks for a new one? Fuuuuuuck. It’s irritating because the phone’s not TOTALLY fucked. It just doesn’t make sound or deliver sound unless it’s in headphone or speaker mode. SO, technically, I can still use it as long as I don’t care about other people hearing my conversations and/or walking around like a fucking lunatic with my headphones in just talking to the sky. I’m bummed. I can’t even handle this shit today, as I’ve got to go to some strip clubs in Indiana to research a project I’m part of. Art is hard, man. Don’t let ‘em tell you otherwise.
My wife’s out of town, and my baby is at daycare. I’m about to take my bike to the gym, and then I’m gonna go, like I said, see what the finest in Monday day shift strippers off the highway in Indiana have to offer. It’s gonna be great. If my phone worked, I’d say it was a perfect day, but alas…
I’m tired. Sunday nights kill me. It’s funny. It’s almost the only bearable day that I work at that shithole, but it makes me so exhausted that it’s almost not worth it. I mean, as per my usual routine, I go to bed at 930, not 330. that’s enough to really fuck someone up, you know?
Okay, so I really have to get moving. I’ve got to guess some muffs, figure out if a few chicks are filthy, and generally dust off my dick, brush my teeth and head out the door. Like I said, I’ve got some strip clubs to get to, and I’ve gotta be back here by 630 to get my midget out of daycare. I can’t just be sitting here typing to y’all in this situation. It’s masturbatory. Okay, I’m out. And listen, before you start thinking that I’m slighting you with a short entry, consider this, I almost didn’t write today at all. This is all gravy, man.
Okay, time to put on my same underwear from last night. Bye.