Fuck it. I've decided that I'm going to go to the 80's party this weekend dressed as Elvis Costello. I know it's not so much of a switch up but excuse me for being broke. Grab the grey and black diagonally striped tie out of my dresser, the tight black pin-striped suit out of my closette, and I spelled it that way on purpose, and roll out the old emo specs and 1-2-3-boom...E.C.

The black stripes fell off of Lionel, my fish, and I don't understand why...

I'm listening to Jawbox - My Scrapbook of Fatal Accidents right now. How can something be so good that it hurts your feelings?

Working two jobs simultaneously sucks major rocks. The major ones.
I've got to use the term "major" excessively at the 80's party whilst sipping my Bartles & James wine coolers. Oh, if you happen to be in or near Champaign-Urbana this weekend, then you're more than welcome to attend said party. Just email me. Gotta 80's it up though.