So here we are at the birth of a new work week. A fresh start. A new beginning. Another week with endless potential. The problem remains that all I can think about is quitting my job. You have to understand that I’m not bitching here because bitching is no longer the term for this style of venting. I’ve been doing the same job for three years. THREE FUCKING YEARS! What am I supposed to do about this? I can’t handle the student requests, the heavy paperwork or the office politics any more. My gut is wrenched. My teeth are clenched. My head feels like someone has it in a vice. This is not healthy, and I’m honestly thinking of quitting. Does anyone have leads for me? I don’t want to be unemployed, but being unhappy on a 24 hour basis is trying. One change is all I need. Maybe I’ll pack up and head west. Pioneers managed to pull that off even with fear of the unknown. Is it time I buck the fuck up and leave this place behind me. I feel so sick. I could puke at any moment.
This is a formal request to those of you with jobs. Please keep your ear to the ground for openings in your office or any affiliated organizations. I need a change and I’m willing to apply for anything. I realize the music industry is fickle and I probably won’t be able to find a job working with music, so the flood gates have opened.
So on top of all this I’m checking out The Knot which is a web site where my friend Tiffany has her wedding registry posted online. Are you kidding me? People are getting married? Little Tiffany who used to go to the old punk rock shows at the VFW with Evan and me when we were in 8th grade? The same Tiffany who used to go out with the dirtiest punk rock kids in high school? The same Tiffany who used to be my confidant and make out partner? So here I am, all of 23 years young, getting nervous about returning home. It’s almost like a preseason game before the reunion invitations start rolling in. My suits are at the dry cleaners, I got a hair cut and I’ve been doing push ups in preparation of seeing old friends who will be judging on appearance and employment. It looks like I’m fucked.
So enough of that sappy pappy bullshit, I mean what does my mental health really matter? I apologize for this becoming a public forum for my monologues that should stay within the interior of my mind, but it is an outlet for me to vent some frustration. In the mean time, here are some hilarious pictures that have been taken over the past few weeks with descriptions beneath them. Sorry that some of the quality is garbage, but you can get the jist.
This is one of the first pictures taken at Coachella. This is my friend Whitney in the middle of the highway leading to the grounds. This was taken while we were running around hopping into random vehicles.
Another picture from the same car ride. Its a picture of Cami's feet who is running to catch up with the car after she had popped a squat in some bushes.
This is Perry trying to take Beach down in a one man Culkin before !!! hit the stage during the second day of the festival.
Here is my boyfriend Paul at the festival. I miss him calling me a human pacifier.
This automobile was our baby for three days. Flynne, Builder and I got this picture taken at Joshua Tree State Park. Unfortunately Cami wasn't available for the picture, but she's there in spirit.
IF YOU GET OFFENDED BY GAY PORN THAN YOU MAY NOT WANT TO SCROLL DOWN ANY FURTHER ON THIS PAGE. JUST A WARNING.
Dan and I bought a bunch of porn, cut out all the cocks and hid them all over Builders room while he was in Seattle on business. Here is dan with some of the master pieces.
Builder after finding another one of our many hidden cocks.
While Hawkins was passed out we decided he would look best draped in gay porn.
Finally, here is the last of the Builder shaming. This is Perry in the same speedo that he did a stirp show in during the Rana set at the Mercury Lounge. He decided to crawl around in Builder's bed for a bit and naturally I had to capture it on camera.
So you know the rest of my weekend was pretty tame, nothing exciting to report, though Hawkins did take us out to an amazing brunch yesterday and Beach had a small BBQ on Saturday. I like to eat.
9 Comments:
Jay, Come to the motherland.
where is this motherland and how the hell do i get there.
The streets are paved with vaginas, the crystal clear waters are flowing greenly with the murmur of babbling ganja streams, and cocktails rise effortlessy, like the phoenix, to your lips. and best of all, the state bird is tittyfucking. If you don't know yet, than the motherland is not for you. Use your noodle, Jay, and all your problems will dribble away like melting cream cheese on a summer picnic. Think about it, you silly goose.
The streets are paved with vaginas, the crystal clear waters are flowing greenly with the murmur of babbling ganja streams, and cocktails rise effortlessy, like the phoenix, to your lips. and best of all, the state bird is tittyfucking. If you don't know yet, than the motherland is not for you. Use your noodle, Jay, and all your problems will dribble away like melting cream cheese on a summer picnic. Think about it, you silly goose.
Oh yeah---and the chicks go down faster than Arthur Ashe's T-cell count. ZING!
all of these fucking riddles on the comment box are driving me crazy. i think i'm going to discontinue them just so people will stop fucking with me. more fustration. sure, bring it on, thats all i need. now fuck off.
No love for a solid Arthur Ashe reference???Well, you can all fuck right off.
Your rant on the shittiness may well have been plucked from my own brain - I feel your shitty NYU job pain.
-Tumbleweed
oh tumble hawk, you know we are working on the same level. mentally speaking. did someone say acid.
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