... I don't like being alone. I especially don't like it when Natasha goes out and I stay home alone, like tonight. But, sadly, it's necessary. We're so broke that I'll actually agree to stay a few random nights alone while my wife goes out and makes some money. I don't want to, but I have to. Biting the bullet. That's just how it's got to be. It's hard, you know? It's just hard. I don't do alone too well.
Plus I've been really frustrated at work lately. I've been working my ass off doing two to three people's jobs because the employees that are supposed to be mine keep ending up everybody else's but mine. So I'm left essentially all alone to cover their job as well as mine. I think I have an ulcer now. It popped up sometime today at work. It's like a small yappy dog is biting my left side. Yay me!
You want to know how rough I've had it lately?
Yeah. That's when you know that I'm doing rough, when I shave. Sure I'll think up some smart ass answer as to why I shaved, like I offered my facial hair as a sacrifice to the god of hives or something like that, but that's all bullshit. I shave when I'm depressed, usually.
It's on nights like this that my 1gig iPod shuffle can read my mind ...
Marti Webb: Tell Me On a Sunday
Beatles: And I Love Her
Gnarls Barkley: Just a Thought
Beck: Do You Realize (Flaming Lips)
Pink Floyd: Mother
Jamiroquai: Virtual Insanity
Greg Kihn Band: The Break-Up Song
Tears for Fears: Everybody Wants to Rule the World
The Kooks: Crazy (live Gnarls Barkley cover)
Beatles: Strawberry Fields Forever
Madonna: Live to Tell
REM: The Great Beyond
The Format: 1,000 Umbrellas
Aggro 1: Falling Away In The Wind (Kansas VS Korn)
Bobby Womach: Across 110th Street
John Lennon: God
The Eels: Going to Your Funeral (part one)
Weezer: Island in the Sun
... and it is on nights when I find myself alone, nights like this one right here, when something truly magical happens at my house. You see, whenever Natasha goes out and I'm all alone at home our couch magically transforms from a small shitty little couch into a big, lonely, fifty mile long couch. Suddenly I am all alone on a couch that stretches out fifty miles long in every direction. I sit there, drink my pints of Labatt Blue, listen to my psychic iPod, and watch the same DVDs over and over again.
And believe me when I say that in the last few years, I have had many a night sitting here on the fifty mile couch.
I guess that tonight is different from all those long, heartbreaking nights back in the oh-4our because now at least I'm sharing the fifty mile couch with a snoring little mexican angel named Isabela. That makes me feel a little bit better. But still, it's always hard, these nights on the fifty mile couch. I haven't had a proper fifty mile couch night since way back summer oh-4our. I remember I was eating a microwavable pizza and switching between my bootleg of "Let It Be" and one of the most graphically disgusting holocaust documentaries ever created.
The only smile that night came from my debate: which is worse, seeing thousands upon thousands of dead jewish corpses ... or seeing Paul McCartney being a conceited fucking douchebag?
I fucking hate fifty mile couch nights.
And yes, with every passing pint of Labatt Blue that passes through my throat, the less I seem to care.
Wow. Hell yeah. Here's to hoping that the rest of the night is as happy and as dizzy as I am right now ...