Wake, rush, work, eat, smoke, work, play, work, rest, work, eat, smoke, work, work, and return to my cubicle apartment complex, to my small white-walled box to die for the night in an eerie glow of Adult Swim and sorrow.
at least I got decent tunes to go along with the boredem.
:: shuns own optimism ::
What the hell kinda job do you have anyway, Mr. secret-guy??