08/15/2003 - 11:11 p.m. | i want my daddy's records

Hmm � I�m filled with such rancor lately. I really need to cheer up. I�m not even sure what my problem is. I don�t think it�s the factory; I�m more or less done with that chapter of my life. I�m just� grumpy, and when I�m grumpy, I want to make other people feel that way, too. Bad habit, I know. I guess I just don�t like the way things work. The things I were once attracted now practically disgust me. It�s unnerving. And yet maybe a little too satisfying as well. But, all in all, I�ve been down these last few days. And no real explanation for it. I hope it passes. Heh � I can�t even tell how I�m feeling completely until I go back through these entries and piece it together. That doesn�t seem entirely good, does it?

Honestly, I never have anything to write about work anymore. When no one bothers me, I float through the day on autopilot with nothing really important to talk about. Here�s about what I can piece together: 1) If I have a son, his name will be Sean. A daughter, Ana. For a lullaby, I will sing disturbing Neutral Milk Hotel songs in the hopes that it will make them crazy. 2) What the fuck is with Lucky Charms? Horseshoes are lucky, I agree. So are clovers � even if they stuck them on a dumb hat. Everything else, though, is crap. Blue moons, rainbows, gold, hearts, stars? AND � most insane of all � the balloon. Remove all the bullshit ones and replace them with a severed rabbit�s foot marshmallow, please. 3) One thing I did appreciate about Idle Hands was the scene where Jessica Alba was about to be smashed into the roof, and she stopped right before it happened, but her boob just got the teeniest bit squished. Just the tip. That was brilliant directing. No, I mean it. Yeah, that�s all the new stuff I�ve got. I really let my self-esteem get in the shitter, though. Ugly and alone just circle through my head like fun little orbits. For obvious reasons. Ugh.

I didn�t wear my contacts today while I worked. Or my glasses. I�ve often said I could almost do this job with my eyes closed. This is the next closest step. Visual acuity is completely optional. Tropical Skittles are not. Still, I guess this was why work was so dreamy. That and the opium. Big check this week. Woo, woo. Life continues to be worth living.

Came home and watched Avril Lavigne�s video diary on MTV. She doesn�t seem, uh, too smart. But when she says �out,� her Canadian accent seeps through, and it�s adorable. Such a sucker for accents. I ate a bunch of junk, repeatedly stumbled out in my boxers to check the mail, and fell asleep for a while.

Woke up, Tina was here, stumbled around some more in boxers, finally made the big leap to shorts. Had a little wine and watched more of Dick Van Dyke (�Penis Von Lesbian�) until Dad came back with dinner. (Jackson) Pollock. Bland. Like the flat Sprite of fish. There�s an interesting simile for you. Finished off the night with �Sanford and Son.� Seriously, what an altogether bad and entertaining show. Tomorrow, we�re heading to Chicago for my mom�s birthday, but I�m gonna stay up for a little now and continue making people think I�m an ass.

Lamont Sanford: You're a dirty old man ya know that?
Fred Sanford: And I'm gonna be one 'till I'm a dead old man!