Isn't life grand. It always seems to go this way.
You start the day out down and then you get kicked. So you fall to the floor. Then they stomp on you. Now you are dust. Dust which gets swept up and tossed in the trash. The trash getts jossled and you fall to the bottom of it. Mixed in with slimy egg goo and coffee grounds and anything else so vile the rest of the trash can't contain it.

Maybe my car will be stolen by the time I get out of here. Or some ex can call me up and tell me how much better her new lover is. Or I could get diagnosed with testicular cancer.

I've come to hate my life.