Happy birthday, my fat grey beast of a cat! I promise i won’t tell anyone you are nine today.

If you find yourself in a band and one of your bandmates expresses a desire to record a song about a robot with a tortured soul, do the world a favor and beat the shit out of them.
Learn the lesson that Styx did not, songs about robots are retarded, songs about emotionally pained robots trying to save mankind are hot fudge retarded sundaes.
Your sin might be redeemed by its inherent cheese factor in about twenty years, but I promise you that my hefty bat and I will make sure you are not around to see that day.

It’s official, I am readdicted to caffeine. I always give it up, and like a junk-sick loser, I always come crawling back for more.
I was clean for 2 years this last time. I was having trouble sleeping, so I cut out the morning coffee and the three iced teas over lunch, then realized I still wasn’t sleeping. I quit my job, that worked. I stayed so clean.
When I’m not on caffeine, I am a self-righteous bastard. Everyone who knows me can confirm this tidbit. People mention their beverage choices and I get to throw in something like “Oh yeah, I don’t really drink caffeine anymore. It’s not good for you”. People have a real reason to hate me.
But if you guys think I am bad when I am off the caffeine, I am so much worse on it. I don’t sleep well, my temper flares, my cramps get worse. I have crave headaches. And I hate you all for being you. I’m far worse than any junkie because you can’t hold an intervention for me, you can’t have me declared incompetent and force me into a 48 hour observation at the municipal mental health facility of your choice. All you can do is sit back and weep as I mix up a triple shot latte in the kitchen and sneer at you as I gulp it down.
So much blame to pass around. First, I’ll give a little to the fine Vietnamese restaurants all around work. The food is good, but the sweetened Vietnamese coffee called my name and won’t let go of my heart. I also blame SuperTarget. Their ultra-convenience didn’t end at having bathtowels near the eggs, they had to include a Starbucks in the mix. So very nice to drink a coffee to quell my appetite and prevent me from buying a mega-size pack of corn dogs to be eaten at my leisure. One would argue that SuperTarget also has a D’Amico deli counter, and they don’t see me freaking for the antipasto. Well I have one really good retort for that argument: Shut the hell up! If I wanted your opinion I would have picked up the phone and dialed 1-800-MY-OWN-ASS and listened quietly.
Maybe I should cut down.

Is there anything better than driving fast and eating an ice cream and having ‘Lust For Life’ come on?
Of course, five years ago it would have been “any intoxicant within reach” instead of “ice cream”, and “managing to walk” instead of “driving fast”, to get an accurate picture of the moment.
I have to admit, there is something infinitely more satisfying about licking caramel off my chin than licking a drink off the table.

Maybe it’s just me but the water in my kitchen smells like worms and the water in my bathroom smells like dust.