So, My Car’s Gone

I guess there’s something funny about them cutting his hours and then calling him into work.

Shit. Insert bitter laughter here.

Sorry, guys, I should just leave this blogging thing alone until I can improve my attitude.

Skip James Saves the Day

So, I got to work and shut the door and sat in the dark and listened to Skip James until I felt better. It didn’t take long.

I’m sorry I said I hated all of you. It’s just my upper-lower-class inability to articulate my feelings which manifests itself in lashing out at those closest to me. Or some such nonsense.

Because, here’s the thing: shit’s going to happen. And it might suck. The Butcher could lose his job and not find another one. But it’s not going to kill us. We’ll cancel cable and the internet and turn off the heat and make more use of the afghans and eat rice and stop drinking and going out. But no one is going to die.

And if I do, well won’t you motherfuckers be sad that we fought and you never had a chance to say how sorry you were?

(See, that’s the biting humor we all come here for. Don’t tell me you didn’t read that and laugh.)

Writer’s Block

Did I say one crappy job? Because, apparently now, it’s more like 3/4 of a crappy job as the store has cut the Butcher’s hours.

“I have to get a new job,” he says again. Like all the times he’s said it before. And not done it.

So, we’ll see.

I’m waiting for this to be funny. I’ve tried to think of five different ways to rephrase this so that it’s funny. Because that’s how I get by, just taking this big pile of shit we call a life and molding it into tiny crap people and using them to tell you stories we can laugh at.

But today I hate every single one of you. It’s nothing personal. I’m jealous of how non-stupid I imagine your lives are in comparison to mine. That’s not fair to you, I know. But there it is.

And I can’t tell stories that make us all feel a little better to people I hate. Myself included.