I don't like cricket. Oh no.

Here I am, sick.
Sick sucks.
I am feeling like I need to get a job, but there's not much that excites me, and so my response to ads has been lackluster. I need to figure out where I want to work, and then blitz them with my personality. And then the whole being sick thing is keeping me from being active. And I want to nap now.

Last night I was the guy. Kind of. And in a BAD way. A kind that makes me feel I'm too nice for my own good. There was this girl a the bar, and she was wasted. And from Brooklyn. With the full-on accent. She said "coffee grinder" more like "cwafee groinda." And her nose kept molesting my ear when she talked to me. I was too nice to tell her to leave me the fuck alone. And then she spilled her drink and attached herself to some other guy and I was free, and my ear was better.

I really shouldn't have gone to karaoke last night. But I did represent and sing Dreadlock Holiday.

I don't like cricket. Oh no.
I love it. Oh yes.