I swear to God, the Universe is really out to get me. I swear. EVERY SINGLE TIME I try to move on with my thought process, something comes swirling and whirling from the ether to smack me in the face: "STOP DENYING YOUR FEELINGS," it says. "You wanted love? YOU GOT IT. NOW DEAL WITH IT."
Last week, I got dumped to the "Rushmore" soundtrack.
The next day, in the middle of one of my "See? This ain't so bad..." moments, I walked into the kitchen of the Palomino and got smacked in the face with John Lennon's "Oh Yoko" blasting from the boombox. Yes, I just said "boombox". And yes, I made a relatively empathetic reference to John And Yoko, Inc.
Deal.
So JUST NOW, just when I hit the "rebuild" button to upload the last entry (read: DO NOT LISTEN TO DINOSAUR JR.), I got a new bulletin message on MySpace.
Livin' all over me, indeed. "HEY, THORVALSON! YOU LOVE THAT GUY! NYAH, NYAH, NYAH-NYAH, NYAH! HAHAHHAHAHA!"
Fuckers. FUCKERS!
Shopping. Seriously. Go give your kid a bath and get out of that fucking door before Robert Bloody Smith starts singing on tv commercials again and fucks you all up for the day.
Go.