Suicide Tuesday

Fucking suicide Tuesday. I didn’t even get that high on Saturday. (I think.) And now, it’s all rainy Portland gloomy outside my office. (LA sidenote: stretch limo outside the Ralph’s supermarket.) I’m writing headlines for UCLA Andersn’s business school. The previous ad said, “No comprmises.” I’m leaving out letters because I don’t want any of this to show up on Google. So, it seems like I’m just writing nonsense headlines. Ever feel like your career wasn’t really going anywhere? Shit on a stick.
But I did meet some really cool folks this weekend, and I’ll be seeing ‘em again sometime soon. It’s not all heated pools and yak. So, back to work. BoSox-Yanks in 45 minutes. Chex mix on the table. See, we’re the overpriveleged upper-middle-class white people. ‘Nuff bitching boy. Get back out there.