You know what we don't do here at Tales from the Road? We don't blow off the readers. This blogging thing may require a little more work than people realize, but screw it. Day after day, week after week, month after month, and year after year, a handful of you degenerates have had something to say. Your feedback is what makes it all worthwhile.
So in your honor, I say the following: I'm fucking tired, man. My ass hurts. I haven't slept worth a damn in three days. I just drove 500 miles on my day off, had a steak dinner with an old friend, and drank a few weird drinks that claimed (accurately, as nearly as I can tell) to contain 8% alcohol. I'm fucking tired.
We'll resume this chat tomorrow.
I think it is time to seek medical attention to your "pain in the ass". When I was on active duty flying I never wanted to see the Flight Surgeon as they would most likely ground you until you recovered from whatever they said you had. But there are times when you just know I can't do anything about the problem and I needed some assistance. I think your fun meter is fully pegged to the left. Who knows maybe some good Obamacare is just what you need. Maybe the office nurse is single and good to look at so there could be some side benefits as well.
ReplyDeleteYou know how some people have things that they would just rather not admit? I'm one of those people. I don't think I'm getting any worse, so we'll go ahead and ride this thing out a little longer and see how it goes.
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