normally i put on a happy face when i write in you, blog, but today i can’t fake it. and normally, i don’t fake it. normally i feel blessed with my situation here in the richest country in the world. normally i feel lucky to still have a job, and hot babes to date, and close friends to hang out with, and fancy electronics to entertain me.

but today none of those things seem to lift my spirits above crabby.

aaarrrrrrgggghhhh.

i never talk about my job here, but today i will. im terrible at my job and everyone knows it. there are all these rules and i cant get them straight. its the main reason the fbi kicked me out. i kept breaking the rules. i didn’t mean to break them, in fact i’d look at the huge book and find what im supposed to do, and then it turns out that im not really supposed to do that at all. fucking sucks.

this year ive been in the xbi is pretty much the same. i keep unintentionally screwing up and i keep thinking i’ll be transferred but it never happens. now im stuck because i have to make this huge proposal but i cant do it because my hands are fucked up.

typing, oddly, doesn’t hurt my hands, but using my mouse at home brings me to my knees in pain. now i have these blisters in my palms, its terrible.

want to depress a bachelor writer? put incredibly obvious blisters on his palms thanks to the super unattractive wrist braces supplied by the workers comp doctor. now i cant feel up the hotties or make photo essays of me and ashley’s weekend.

i don’t know what to do about these blisters, so i put athlete’s foot medicine on them. a few years ago me and chris went to cancun. we climbed the mayan pyramids. i was teasing chris about her fear of heights. it was rainy and slippery on the super steep pyramids so you had to put your hands on the stairs as you climbed them up and climbed them down. next day my oh-so-sensitive hands were covered in fungi. i put socks on my hands when i went to bed.

today i have this foot powder on them. i already look like a nerd. nothing i can do about that. now i look like ive been playing pool all night.

i need a new job. screw saving the world. the world doesn’t even want to be saved. i just want to write. even in the most uncomfortable moments of my life i have the urge to write. somewhere in there i think that some of this might be amusing or interesting or entertaining to someone. merely suffering to myself and keeping this bottled up does nothing for others. this might make you feel a little better about your lot.

tried to call ashley last night to tell her that i appreciated her visit and i was sorry about all the times i was a big idiot but she was on the other line with her true love.

downloaded some of the new springsteen last night. remind me never to get married. it totally kills your art.

the best rock music is a mating call, a lonely wolf howl in the night at the moon, a call to arms, a battle cry.

the sound of a middle age man treading water is what i heard from my computer last night and i ask you all, wheres rosalita? come sit by my fire.

heres how you can make me happy today if that is what you’d like to do.

fellas: put a few bucks into the tip jar. consider it buying me a beer, cuz for sure that’s what i wish i could have right now.

ladies: guest blog for my ass. any topic will do. tell me why i should keep watching sex in the city even though all the male characters (and their mothers) are idiots. tell me about your first kiss. tell me what a man should do on a perfect date. tell me what you’d do for me if we were on a first date. tell me what web sites you like and why.

me, im going to go back to the job and try to figure out these rules. i swear i try hard when i work. i swear!

and i also promise you that these sorts of downer posts will remain few and far between.

wishing: doc searls a happy 55th birthday!