They hired totally the wrong type of model for thisAlso on Monday night I was feeling blue because I couldn't get that camera to work and I was lonely in our big apartment because Liv was still in Thanksgiving mode in rural southwestern Ontario. I was ready for a nice night of watching TV and live sports, but much to my chagrin, the Leafs lost real bad again and I ate another meal way too fast so I felt real bloated and things went back to sad town. But because I got enough sleep, my early day at work isn't as much like torture as it usually is, so I'm looking to glide into the rest of the week with smiles and kisses.
After reading that paragraph, it would seem that I'm manic depressive. Though I have been bummed the last little while for various reasons, I'm generally a happy dude, my problem being that I let little things bother me, so when a bunch of little things malfunction around the same time, the whole "machine" is affected and I end up whining.
That's enough self-diagnosis for today. Say, do any of you work for Mirvish Productions? If so, eat shit. I must have got on their email list because I bought my mom tickets to Dirty Dancing once, and despite my efforts to unsubscribe, I keep getting emails. I can just picture the unsubscribe inbox that no one ever checks, packed full of angry emails, and one day some new guy will have to go through it and unsubscribe millions of frowners like me. Either that or it's just a sick game.
"This guy wants to unsubscribe again."
"Hahahaha. Send him another Jersey Boys offer."
"Hasn't this gone on long enough?"
"I'm a prankster, and this is what pranksters do."
"What are you talking about?"
"I'll answer that with a question of my own - what brand of underpants are you wearing?"
"Um, hold on... HEY! Where'd they go?"
"I'm a prankster Scott, a real tricky duck."
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