When no one cares for you, you're made of straw

They say you should never blog when you're in a foul mood or after eating a bowl of lentil soup, but I'm going to go ahead and do it anyway because I have a bit of time to kill, but mostly because I love you all so much and must satisfy this burning desire to feel close to you. I'm not really in a foul mood, I suppose, but I do feel a little punchy. Could be the rainy white-knuckle commute from work, the prospect of an even worse Christmas than the year before and the year before that (I used to love the holiday. I need a Christmas miracle!), female rejection, the short days, who knows. Maybe a joint committee of a few different things.

I'll get through what ever troubles me, at least in the short term. That's all you can do. I'll record some music later and I'll feel better. I'll meditate, listen to the Lavender Hour, watch some Vice Guide, read - these things will balance things out I predict.

An observation. The preponderance of the expression "Yay" has infected Facebook and it has annoyed me, not a lot but enough to make me not want to visit Facebook as often. Even more annoying is the fact that I should be annoyed in the first place. I guess I'm just used to hearing "Yay" uttered by toddlers when they hear good news like they're going to the zoo or daddy's coming home with ice cream. When it's uttered by adults it's a bit off-putting. It's the equivalent of a twenty year old walking around sucking on a pacifier.

I used to work with a guy who used to suck his thumb all the time. Didn't really bug me, but there was a part of me that wanted to gently suggest he might want to think about growing up a little bit, perhaps to the adolescent stage. Look, clearly I'm not the most mature man by society's standards (thank God), but I can go potty all by myself. Anyway, I'm off on a tangent. To sum up: there are "yay's " flying around Facebook like nobody's business. I find it mildly annoying and because I do I think people should utter that infantile expression even more if only to serve as a big fuck you to my ego which doesn't like anything not approved by it. And really, it's a harmless thing. So yay to your heart's content, you toddlers of Facebook. I approve. And if you need me to change your diaper or prepare you some formula, you big fucking baby, I'll gladly offer a hand.

I just had an epic Stratego battle online. A total come-from-behind-against-all-odds kind of victory. I was dead to rights and.....oh, you don't want to hear about this. Fine, let's move on.

The weekend approaches. Not sure what I'll be doing. My grandmother is turning 94 on Sunday and there will be a party in her honor. An impressive achievement, which means I'll look like a real dick if I ditch it in favor of Stratego. We'll see how I feel.

Whenever I finish a post, like I'm about ready to do, I feel like I come off as a real bitter son-of-a-bitch. I suppose I do, but generally I'm a pretty happy guy. Really, I am. Look, my life as constituted sucks beyond belief, but I've got a pretty positive outlook (despite just claiming my life is so sucky it's beyond belief). I've got a lot to be grateful for. I've said it before: I've got things to be depressed about, but I'm not depressed. Yes, I'd rather not have to go through alone, but it's probably better I do so. And, even as I wallow through these lean, despair-inducing times, I'm looking beyond them to something better.

Yay!