Havin’ a bad day.
It’s halfway through Sunday and I feel like getting drunk. I believe I’ll do that here shortly. Crown on the rocks will be today’s order, in my estimation.
They tossed me out of the bar the other night. Only this time I was dressed in a tuxedo.
It’s nothing I’m proud of, but over the years I’ve proven it doesn’t matter if I’m in Los Angeles, California, or Lubbock, Texas, or Jackson, Mississippi — people dislike me everywhere I go — and they throw me out of bars to show it. A good doctor once told me, “Yeah, there’s gonna be people like that, but ya know what? Fuck ‘em.”
The only problem, Dr. Hutchman, is that I’m getting older now. I have friends that are married. They live in houses. And there’s me, getting pushed into the street by a bouncer.
When was this supposed to stop? Where was the bus? How did I miss it?
Many writers choose suicide as a sort of . . . retirement plan. The obvious problem with that is I haven’t accomplished anything worthwhile to warrant retirement. Besides, I can’t ever commit suicide because in my warped consciousness, the Cowboys might have a shot at it next year. Couldn’t miss that.
So, I’m here, I’m around, I’m hanging out. But at the moment, I’m going through one of these quarter-life crises. I invested in a Harley Davidson — the V-ROD — and that’s placed me in a bit of debt.
That’s my sled.
March Madness will help to pay some of it off. After that, baseball season. But you too can make a contribution to the “Yippykaijay Fund.” If you believe, mail cash or a check to:
1001 University Avenue #5209, Lubbock, Texas 79401
If you choose to contribute by check, don’t worry about filling out the “Payable” line. Just put “Yippykaijay Fund” under “Memo” and we’ll take care of the rest.
Thank you for your support. And good luck.
