I wish I could say I was holding my life together better than I am. Frankly, my quality of life has degraded to the point of physical decay. At least, that’s what I think the smell is.

I stay up late and sleep late. Kicking this habit has become difficult. Getting to bed sooner just results in lying awake staring at the ceiling, and trying to get up earlier is met with loud protests from my body who screams, “I am sooo comfortable right now, don’t you dare move a muscle or I will kick your ass… somehow.” Setting my alarm clock doesn’t help. I find that if I don’t have anywhere to be, I can continue hitting the snooze button for upwards of two hours.

I’m completely non productive most days and all I can show for the other days is a crapload of unanswered resumes. The long list of things I could do usually goes unnoticed as I lay in bed, watching TV programs designed for retarded monkeys, or sit at my computer… right here.

I feel like I’m on the verge of a breakthrough though. With optimism I’m unaccustomed to, I feel like I’m on the edge of something better. I mean, it’s got to be getting better, it can’t get much worse, la de da daaa.

Yesterday, for shits and giggles, I dressed in my formal clothes, sat down in front of mirror, and conducted a complete job interview with myself.

At no time did I ever think to myself, “This guy is a fucking psycho! Call security.” Why I manage to have so many interviews that don’t lead to jobs still eludes me.

Curious, I dressed down a little bit, sat back in front of the mirror, and had a first date with myself. THAT answered all of my questions about the topic. In the end I wound up spraying the mirror with mace and calling a cab.