Today’s soundtrack: Wake up mama, turn your lamp down low
Today at 7:02pm: Fighting bile.


Today I threw up, yaaaaaakkk. Nice to know that no matter how old you get and whatever jobs may come, you’ll still periodically get sick and have to hunch over a toilet bowl.

I just got promoted, yaaaakkkk.

I run my own business, yaaaaaakkk.

I’m a CEO, yaaaakkkkk.

I don’t remember eating corn.

Been busy with freelance and whatnot and I’m seeing this chick, Businessgirl. She’s pretty down-to-earth but her shoes look expensive and foreign and she uses phrases like “opportunity cost” in regular conversation. She’s funny and I’m pretty into her shit and I don’t have any good idea what she does at work.

She explained it to me but I can’t get a good visual. I picture her sitting at a desk with numbers swirling around her head and spreadsheets with blinking boxes and people getting fired in the background. Cut to a shot of me at work where I’m wearing a smock and covered in fingerpaint, listening to Stereolab and the Allman Brothers while my coffee gets cold.

Have you ever heard “Statesboro Blues”? Highly recommend it. That’s now the first tape I’d pop into the deck after stealing a big American car from the parking lot of a diner in Alabama. I need to make a Car Theft mix. I don’t know when I got so big into the drifter fantasies, I think it was after I had to purchase my own health insurance.

So tonight I was supposed to go meet Businessgirl’s friends at this bar, there was some happy hour thing going on. Unfortunately I woke up sick this morning. My condition vacillated throughout the day but 5pm found me racing home so I could have the pleasure of vomiting in my own bathroom. Needless to say I wouldn’t be making the bar.

B-girl stopped by after work with Nyquil and ginger ale and Vitamin C drops. What a sweetie! The only thing that could have made it cooler would be if she’d boosted the stuff.

It’s supposed to be snowing right now but I can hear the weather on my roof and it’s rain. Weathermen need to be held accountable for their actions. There are fucking witch doctors who get more accurate results than weathermen.

It would be cool if Fox News had a witch doctor instead of a weatherman. “Coming up next, Shaka’s going to tell us what happens when he puts a hex on your firstborn and the walls start weeping blood.”

Chances are Shaka would be coming after me, because he would have parked his Cutlass Supreme in front of Loretta’s Chow Chow by the expressway and I’d hotwire that bitch like it was nobody’s business.