The realisation that I'm a loser hit me hard recently. Maybe it was brought on when I found myself unable to turn the channel from "Head of the Class" and the wacky antics of those loveable, brainy kids and their charming stand up comedian teacher. What a hoot! Surely it couldn't be that I'm almost thirty and sleeping on The Mother's couch? I guess it might be the fact that any friends I have I pay and since I've been jobless consequently I have no friends . . . (Just joking, guys - I'm sure there's at least . . . uh . . . one or two of you out there that cares . . . uh, guys? Hello? . . .)
Well, what ever the reason, here I am - the loser. What? Are you now asking my for definition of the term "loser"? (Note my dramatics - I know I'm writing to the few people who still believe that I'll be comming 'round with their monthly check or anyone foolish enough to still be looking for Hot Pork Rind Sex...)
My personal definition of a loser is one who has no culture; someone lacking in direction, (as of this moment I'm sitting at Sharis restaurant hopeing someone might come along and direct me to the restroom before I make an incredibly imbarassing boo boo. . . Yeah, I've been here before . . . What's your point?) one who has not one, but two (count 'em! One Two!) ex fiances under their belt and countless horrible relationship experiences. If you can't multiply with a calculator or if you have to use your toes to count above ten, you might be a loser. If you can't manage to read to yourself without moving your lips, you might be a loser. If you find yourself using a lame, washed out stand up comedians style to get your point across . . . well, I think y'all see what I'm getting at.
But I've gotten comfortable with my status . . . kinda. Sure, I could do without the stares, the children crying out "Look mama! She's not wearing any pants!"- but hey, life does tend to go on. So I'm not complaining, and I've stoped crying myself to sleep . . . mostly . . . It's just something I've got to learn how to deal with. Like the eventual return of shitty washed up bands (who said I was talking about KISS?) or that nasty, irritating rash I get in the summer that seems to be spreading more and more . . . (anyone have any topical cream?) my loser-dom is just one more thing to endure.
One more thing, though, I'd just like to thank whomever it was that designed bladders to be elasticy - Maybe this explains my facination for Depends.
