I Don’t Want a Stupid Title

I  find working for a living really gets in the way of true ambition. after all, i moved out to NYC to pursue my dream - becoming a numchuck super-hero, but i find i’ve gotten nowhere due to the fact that i have to go to stinking work every day. how am i supposed to build a proficiency with numchucks and work on my alter-ego (“Super Rodent”) as well as the “rat den,” if I’m expected to be up every morning by 7 am? if only my parents would start to take more of a financial interest in me. it sucks, the older I get, the less they seem to want to blow large sums of money on me. i mean, ten years ago i at least had a shot in hell they’d buy me that trampoline i’ve had my eye on, but now….

who am i kidding, i never had a shot in hell at that damn trampoline.

has exactly two temperatures:  ass cold and balls hot.

 

i am bummed.  the little store downstairs from our apartment has either wised up or realized their mistake, and started charging $1.50 for their 24 ouce beers instead of a dollar.  i thought i’d found a loop hole in the beer conspiracy, where a six pack costs $3.  but it was not meant to be.  i guess i will always look back at the last two months of cheap beer, as the best time of my life.  eat your heart out childhood.