LifeBox

You know, the Teletubbies aren’t as bad as I thought they’d be. They actually kind of grow on you after a while.

My worst sin is Envy. Sloth running a very close second, which makes it even worse. Ugly, ugly, ugly.

I’m totally freaking exhausted, and I can’t get to sleep. Shit-ton of work to do, appointments early in the morning, way too many things to take care of, and here I am, dead-eyed and bristly-tailed.

Sick. Tired. Sick and tired. This fucking plague.

Dear America: Cut. It. The. Fuck. Out.

Dear Austin Police: If someone calls in a noise complaint because the doucheholes across the way are working on their VERY LOUD bikes or ATVs or whatever the redneck fuck they’re working on at one a.m. in the goddamn morning, that is not the opportunity to hang out and shoot the good ol’ boy shit about carburetors or off-road suspensions or whatever the redneck fuck you’re shooting the good ol’ boy shit about. That is the opportunity to pull out that TASER that you love so much and pump a few ten thousand volts of good neighborliness into those motherless pricks.

Dear Invisible But Infuriating Cold Virus: Okay, I get it, you win. You’re the superior life form. I give. Now I want to get back on with my life. You’ve made me miss sleep, work, a performance, a rare date with the Bernie, and an even rarer shot at getting out and playing some Bliss Stage or something. I got shit to do, so git.

Dear New 1 Terabyte Drive, XBox 360, TVersity, Fat Wireless Network, And Years Of Acquiring “Backup” Copies Of Various Movies And Television Shows:  Thank you. I was just about to get bored for a second, there.

Dear Improv: I know, it’s been a week and change. I miss you, too. See you tomorrow.  (/me glares at Virus)

This being sick crap is for the birds.

Haven’t we fixed this yet? I thought we were in the future and stuff.