Fell off the (sane) wagon and watched network television last night. The good thing is that I didn't have to wait for the morning hangover to chastise me. No. Commercials and talentless hosts are like drinking Big Daddy's Ass Burn Hot Sauce after your ulcer perforates. Instant feedback that you're ass deep in a bad idea.
Have you seen the new McDonalds' ads? Soulless marketers trying to convince us that McDs offers a healthy menu by spelling their name with fresh produce. The golden arches made out of grape tomatoes. Brought to you by the godfathers of extruded foods and slicked-up colons.
Tried to find my happy place this week and last. Fucking door was dead-bolted. Could only access my Almost Happy Place: where you dream about but never really get to smack anyone. Don't know why I'm having such a fucking hard time lately. I blame it on the dizzying cocktail of
- medications playing whack-a-mole with my moods,
- work that makes me feel hollow,
- stealth hormones cruising my system,
- powerful heat and weak air conditioners,
- pervasive and often unfounded money angst,
- way too much:
- political awareness,
- food industry awareness,
- health industry awareness, and
- a growing fear that I've lost my way.
Please file this under self-indulgent caterwauling and either forget about it or quote from it when I get too high and mighty. It won't stop me from pummeling you but think of how much you'll enjoy pissing me off.
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