Now That’s Progress

Right. Who the fuck is Stan? My favorite vegetable is either corn or spinach. I miss my car. I love that fucking hunk of machinery. I need rims so send me all of your money. I also need individual DVD players in my headrests. So continue sending money.
I am about to embark upon a whole new chapter in my life, a chapter of television watching. Never before have I looked forward to a specific show. This season I looked forward to two shows, Rome and My Name is Earl. The verdict is in on both. Rome is the bomb. I am two minutes into My Name is Earl, and it is quite possibly the best thing ever to happen to me. I am ten minutes into the show and it is enjoyable. I am glad to waste a half-hour per week watching this. It's the first commercial break, and this show is the jet. Sweet fuck this show is funny. I am going to watch the shit out of this every week.
Does anyone drink milk anymore? I mean honestly. I am about to start because no one does it. Thus, I will be ahead of the retro-underground-hip-indie-beverage-scene. It's an exclusive scene. You can't be part of it.
Life is all about goals. You have to set and strive to meet your goals. My newest goal is to swim across the Atlantic Ocean. But now that I think about it, I'll probably settle for a fly over.
Envy.
I need a life. Seriously.
I have this ritual I go nightly as I go to bed. I toss around my bed thinking of my future. In my plans, I usually come into a really offensive amount of money and do everything I've always wanted. You should see it. I am building churches, libraries, museums and homeless shelters. I fund little league sports and have season press box seats to every NHL team. I have a plethora amount of cars. I buy people crazy shit for Christmas. It's an enjoyable way to fall asleep, yet it tends to yield a miserable feeling upon waking up. So last night I tried something a tad bit different. I tried to be more realistic. My life unfolded out before me like an old t-shirt from the top drawer. I will return from the Army and the war to the world. I will find some job in some city I whimsically decide I must live in. I will work. I will buy a boat. I will drink. Then, just like everything else, I will die of liver failure at the ripe old age of 38. I want Elton John to write a song about that shit.