dear god, or whomever is the overpowering force that is consistently plotting to destroy me: please get lost. i need a job. a real one. and fast. you see, it's impossible to survive on what i'm currently reeling in and i've stretched that as far as it can possibly go. our landlord is pissed off and wants money that we do not have. not to mention my roommate, i suspect, will be hitting the road really soon leaving me ...well, fucked. so, either loan me a printing press with precise counterfeiting capabilities or hook me up with a non-monkey type job so i can stay sane. thanky.
and to the rest of you, i hope to see you at the show on tuesday, where i plan on drinking quite heavily, but only after our set.