Let's have a pity party!
We can all get together and focus on all the shit that is wrong with my life and drink. It'll be a fucking blast!
We can discuss my social anxiety and how it prevents me from doing almost anything remotely social.
We can reflect on how I'm "such a nice guy" and a "genuine" person who always seems to end up on the shit end of the stick with the ladies.
We can dwell on my empty apartment and think of how some family in Mexico is at this very moment going through old Bloodhound Gang memorabilia and sitting on my fucking desk chair.
We can openly analyze how I am underperforming at work to the point of being second choice to a dead beat dad for a job that I'm now miraculously "qualified" to do.
We can think about all the times I should have made a move on the girl of my dreams.
We can talk about my family and force me to think about how much I miss them.
We can speak of my jealous nature, my obsession with my female friends, how I am a complete failure at most of what I try to do, my poor diet, my horrible attitude, my incessant need to "hate" everything, my prejudices towards all people, the way I creepily eye women like some sort of sexual predator, my inability to keep in touch with all of my friends far and wide, my distrust of mankind and my missing tooth.
I'm slipping into madness. And I'm convinced it has everything to do with my inability to coax my moving company to just bring me my fucking shit. I'm like compulsive with thinking about not having my shit here. I am starting to reduce the amount of sleep I get each night and I sit in the dark and ponder strategies on how I can get my stuff. Do I arm myself and drive to New Jersey to fuck some people up? Do I admit defeat and just consider this another blood soaked kick in the face? Do I turn into Glenn Close in Fatal Attraction and just keep calling and calling the movers and leaving hatefilled voicemails? God, I just want to move on and try to exist here in Georgia. I feel like my life is stuck on pause...and clearly this is not good. Pause equates to lots of time to think about how fucked up I am.
I'm this fucking close to getting on Zoloft.
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4 comments:
Skipper-
Relax on the other issues besides not having your shit. If you want, I can have my uncle who is a lawyer see what can be done legally. If there is a contract and they have not held up to their end, Im sure legal matters can be persued(Spelling). Seriously, just let me know and even if its just a phone call, im sure he'll be happy to do it for a friend of mine- Jeffs
From the research I've done, this type of thing happens all the time with movers. There is little in place to govern them as a body, thanks to W. Threatening them will only make them more angry and they will stall longer. There is a complaint I can file, but suing is something that is rare unless they deliver all your shit broken. In other words, I'm on their time table and I need to accept that. Eventually my shit will arrive, maybe not in one piece and maybe not anytime soon, but it will come. Or so I think.
skipper when is the party?
kevin
this smells of screenplay to me!!!! cash in on it my brother!
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