We March Onward

 

I run into so many sketchy greaseballs on the street. It's usually homeless junkies wanting attention, yelling or something. My office is currently located in the economically challenged part of Calgary known as Skid Row, or CrackMacs. 

Just the other day I noticed a hypodermic needle just by my vehicle. How handy. I left it on the ground. I'm tired of people bugging me. Leave me alone. I wear gloves which just adds to the mystery about me. People are too Goddamn nosy for my liking. 

And the other day I had someone ask me about the girl I had on my iphone. It is Paris Hilton. But so what? I follow her on Twitter. She's really nice.

But anyway, back to the story. Screaming homeless assholes, menacing fools playing guitar in the parking lot, looking for cigarette butts. And God knows what else. I'm not buying it. Girls and women - wonderful. I love the attention. And I hope and pray and wish to meet someone nice who will love me one day. And f*ck my brains out.

You get the idea. I have no Goddamn interest in re-connecting with ex-coworkers or colleagues. Get the hell away from me. Not interested. Next!

God, I almost wished Theresa was back down here in this madness. But no, she's safe in the afterlife, yelling loudly at people who harass me.

I just hope I have a better year this time. God knows I need it.

So badly.

Chris