Worthless Tuesday

After a string of attempted posts, that I didn’t finish, here goes the motherload.

It’s Tuesday, and I ain’t doing shit. Why do you care? You probably don’t. I read on Digg that if you want someone else to read your blog, it has to be something YOU want to read about too. No shit, asshole, that’s why I wrote it in the first place.

I’m fat and I have my pants unbuttoned, but with a belt on, to ease the restriction around my waist. I used to be skinny and weigh like 155, but now I’m kind of fat and am pushing 180. I guess when you stop doing lots of blow and start eating, your body retains some of the semi-nutritional shit in Ranch dressing and club sandwiches.

One time, I was tripping realllllly hard in college, and I was lying on my bed. I was a skinny little bitch, like I said, probably weighing in around 150 or so. Zero muscle mass, 100% tight shirt squad, I think you know what I’m talking about. Anyway, I was tripping real hard, and I looked down at my body, and I was like, “What the fuck? This is it?” I started to understand that my body was all I had, and it was an emaciated, white skinny piece of quivering worthless meat.

Literally, the next day I started to bulk up and eat lots of hamburgers and shit to try to gain some mass. I didn’t care about looking “good” or having muscles or anything, I just wanted to not be such a skinny little fucker. It took a while for the effects to kick in, but at about the same time I stopped doing lots of cocaine and started to eat food with lots of fat and cholesterol, I started to get a little gut. Skip about 2 years, and here I am, sitting in my sweater, hands on my gut, with my fucking pants button undone to feel comfortable in my zone. I kind of like it too, because I used to be so goddamn skinny, and now I feel a bit more manly with my handgrown American pouch. Maybe one day I’ll get some chest hair, and then maybe I’ll have to shave every once in a while.

Cut to: Me quitting my job. I’m trying desperately to get a new job. Actually, I’m not, I just bitch about it all the time that I hate my job and want a new one. I had a new year’s goal of getting a new job by the end of March, but I failed miserably. I sent out a bunch of resumes, etc, joined a “club” with people in my industry to meet contacts and called a bunch of people. I even went to an interview or two.

Guess what? I’m still here, wasting my time on this blog, and talking about how I was tripping and decided to get fat. It’s not that terrible of a life. I have health insurance, get paid decently, and really don’t do much at all. Like I explained in my early posts, it’s all about ACTING busy, not actually being busy.

Anyway, I’m trying to get a job in the movie business, and odds are that I won’t have any benefits at the new job. My yellow teeth will only get yellower, and if I get in a car crash and become paralyzed, I won’t have a corrupt corporate institution to pay for a nurse to wipe my ass. My mom swears she won’t help me if that happens, but guess what? Whatever.

To sum up: I got fat in the last year, I’m still trying to quit my job, and when I do, I probably won’t be able to go to the dentist for a few months because I’ll be uninsured. Oh well, bitches. What the hell are you guys up to? The Sid Vicious crew has stopped coming in, maybe they fixed the algorithm once they figured out that we don’t want your stinky, indie asses coming to our show anyway.


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