I’m a bit irked about having to spend the whole freakin’ day sitting in the jury selection room without use of my cell phone and completely isolated from anyone interesting enough to have a conversation with about something other than the weather and STILL I did not get selected for jury duty.

I mean I was there for an hour or two longer than I can stand to be at the office and I get PAID for that shit.

Plus they tried to take my Gameboy away, those bastards.

I was like “This can not take pictures or launch missiles, it is not a bomb, can not be fashioned into any sort of weapon because I am not MacGyver so please grant me some god damn Castlevania for the downtime, puhlees!”

Back at home, there were no answering machine messages from cute SCORPIO boys that whisper sweet nothings in your ear and grope your cock in crowded bars. This cements the theory that most boys can’t be trusted. They will lie right to your face at the prospect of getting some action which is quite possibly the most retarded thing ever because how hard is it to get into my fucking pants anyway?

Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah “You have no messages.” That’s what the machine tells me in its glaringly unsympathetic robo-voice.

I was worried that Goth Chris would be unable to find someone to go see Cradle of Filth with him and even he did not call me at the last minute demanding my presence as he has threatened to over the past couple weeks upon realizing that nobody in their right mind other than a closet black-metal head like him would want to go see that mess on stage.

Also I am starting to get all panicked and retarded about Christmas. Wondering how I am going to come up with enough money and ideas to pull off what is expected this year.

I really wish it would all just go away because I have been enjoying it significantly less with every year that passes since my father died. It is definitely not a good time for those of us with barely enough money to afford our own lifestyle and the stress is really starting to outweigh the joy of watching my mother unwrap plastic pink flamingos on Christmas Eve. (No lie, that is what she asked for.)

Pretty soon I will be banished to the kids table for Christmas dinner so as not to throw off the even number of “legally recognized and sanctified in the eyes of G-O-D” couples at the adult table as they discuss The Bachelorette, Big Man on Campus or whatever surreal, retarded, hetero dating show will be sweeping the nation at Christmas time.

No one will ask me if there is someone special I would like to invite to dinner. (Thank you George W for making homophobia a family value again.)

But someone will take a snapshot for the family album so that years from now I can look at myself, odd man out, in the corner of the picture and remember just how out of place I am feeling and how utterly ALONE I am in this season of togetherness.

Okay, I am cranky as hell. Time to suck down a couple Ambien pills and drift to sleep, hopefully have some dreams that do not involve BOYS or HOLIDAYS.

And please please please for the love of God do not let me have the recurring nightmare where I am driving through one Burger King drive thru after another and NONE of them have any Spongebob watches left but I get onion rings at each one anyway and just keep feeding myself until I get too bloated to even fit behind the steering wheel.

Cause, that one really sucks...