Sad Days

Everyone has them, and now it's my turn.

I've been in a bit of a funk this last week and, like a true recluse, I have crawled into my Handy Hidey Hole and refused to come out for less than 20000 won an hour. This happens to me sometimes. Something completely innocuous will rear it's ugly innocuously shaped head, stick out it's innocuously purple tongue and "THPPPPPPTTTTTTTTTTTTHAGHLTHPPT". Innocuously. This serves to remind me of one of the three things that can actually bring my crushingly charming optimism crashing down around my ears.

I miss my dad. He was a damn good man. One of the best I've ever met and one of the few who could completely disagree with you, let you know about it, but leave you feeling stronger for sticking to your own opinion. He's been dead for 3 1/2 years now, but I have... episodes... now and again. I can usually drown this out with a quick pity party involving a few (many) beers in a dimly lit (seedy) pub and listening to some Ulrich Schnauss albums. Sadly, I have yet to find pub, beer (Cass and Hite are no more beer than Busch or Bud Light) or Ulrich Schnauss albums as I lost all of my music in the tragic PC Genocide of 2009 and Pandora doesn't work here. Also, I drank the last of my Scotch last weekend and have not yet been paid, preventing me from purchasing said sacred nectar. So the best I've been able to do for drowning is Massive Attack and Burger King, which isn't as therapeutic as one might initially believe.


Well that's it. Bleh. Poor me, whatever.

See You on the Dark Side