I feel sick, and my voice is going the way of Burt Reynolds' career in the early 90's. Just hung out with the ex, which was oddly entertaining, and, he even acted like he gave half a shit about how I was doing. Even more impressive, I received an I love you, possibly because he thinks I'm going to end up dead in a ditch before our next meeting, but hey, I take em how I can get em. It appears the group consensus is: I am fucking crazy. It may be true, I prefer to think of myself as adventurous and fool hardy. At any rate, I'm sick by my own doing, and the expensive habit I recently acquired must come to a screeching halt before my nose falls off my face. Yeah, I'm a smart cookie, mm hmm. Two more nights at work and then I'm off for three days...seems all I do anymore is try to blast through the week and forget about work until the weekend arrives, at which point I start dreading my return. poo, I'm tired now. 
No, really.