And the Whole Pampered Style-Making Cult of the Bored Young

It occurs to me on this very early Sunday morning as I sit back in this chair smelling dimly of sweat and booze, dreading work the next couple days and feeling an ache in the back of my neck that I'm just sick of it.

I'm sick of meeting friends from the Net and I'm sick of taking them to the Strip Club where apparently everyone knows my name and I'm sick of letting DJs let me do the chorus of "The Choice Of Yours" and I'm sick of walking Fifth Avenue on a Saturday night after the game with beers in me and I'm sick of wowing hot girls with my dance moves and encyclopedic knowledge of old school hip hop and I'm sick of bumping and I'm sick of grindiahahahahahaahaha.

Well, shit, I tried.

Current music: "Undone (The Sweater Song)" by Weezer