got a sweet black angelgot a pinup girl

I feel fairly disgusted, and oddly satisfied.

I love being solely responsible for my income.

Since I was about 25, I have worked for me and me alone.

I like helping people; I do.

Especially my friends and family.

I wrote that check to my corporate overlords, if you are wondering.

The memo was priceless. I left a little "fuck you" in the form of a smiley face and I wrote, "Happy Employee."

Golly gee, that really frosted my cookies.

Especially on President's Day Weekend.

Here I am, celebrating Lyndon Baines and Richard Milhaus with a bowl of mac & cheese, a pointy guitar and a snowstorm.

Don't fight it.

I feel like I am standing on the beach raging against the tide while my feet get slowly buried in sand as Elton John plays a poignant ballad.

As I watch my feet disappear beneath the sand a tear slides down my cheek, like the indian from saturday morning cartoons.

Crying about litter and dead bison.

Come on, dude.

I saw a bunch of bighorn sheep today.

Somehow, I still maintain a positive attitude.

Gosh.