Well, 32 looks about the same as 31 for those of you who don't know yet.
It is the time of year I go home.
This is the first year that I won't be going alone.
I knew at 30 and two weeks after visiting SLC that he would be going eventually. It's a strange trip to share just as everything has been up to this point.
The week of the 4th is a time of relaxation and reflection.
Good timing for both of us. Every single facet of life outside of our relationship is shifting dramatically and our minds and backs are cracking.
Even if I land empty handed, it will be nice to go home.
Everything that has somehow turned into MY job to make happen in Vegas, can fucking kiss my ass while they stay the FUCK in VEGAS!
Thank you, try the veal buffet, ... and then fucking shoot me.

If I don't perform soon, I'm going to go crazy.
It would actually sound frivolous in most cases when I say that all things not me, Joel or comedy, I instantly harbor immense resentment toward, but not these times. These are truly the blurst of times for even the stupidest monkey, especially chickee monkeys. I keep teetering between determination, ambition, happiness, and fear on the interior while dealing with an increasingly excruciating work situation.
Change is forcing itself and I know that, but don't have to know me well to know my weaknesses. True malice is a better reason to challenge someone's intellect than for just the mere sport of misogyny.

I think I will take the day off and get laid.
Or I'll go in and kill some coworkers and then come home early and get laid.
Hell, I'm losing my youth and no better reason to demand attention than on your own personal New Year!
Either way somebody's gonna be screamin' whether I have company or not.
Cheers everyone!
Have fun today, for me, DAMMIT!
Yes, that's right I'm not afraid to threaten you with a good time,
so go fuck yourselves
and we'll miss you in Myrtle.

Love to all
younger or not
time to go home