Fire Bombing

I was just kidding about the fire bombing thing honestly, no really...... I even put on clothing and threw out my glow in the dark boxers that have a fellatio reference on the fly when the lights go out. I'm getting too old for such things anyway.

Looks like I'm back to square one with a single month separating me from eventual apartmentlessness once again. I'd go into detail, yet a broad statement to the effect of "too much, too little, I make too much, and make too little" will generally encompass the entire schmoodle. In one instance I was under the bracketed income dealy but a mere 200bones a year.
{$4.17 a week under the desired income} (where the hell are my moneybags? time to rob a bank) If any "lady" would have blatently told me I was poor only a few years ago it would have most assuredly liberated for her a kick in the box and a lighting on fire. I may not make a ton of loot, but I make up for my monetary defunctness with a healthy relationship amoungst me, myself, and I and our never ending audible conversations with eachother. I sputtered stood and removed myself from the Complex office in dignified manner. Promptly got into the frankensteiner and tried to shatter the windshield with a hearty "THAT'S..... SUPER BULLSHIT!!!!" (4 exclamation points and all).

I'm over it now, and have begun a new intensified search for a suitable place to call home.

I did burn some toast this morning with breakfast just prior to meeting with a monkey in Toga-town to view an apartment at 8am. I might have looked like a Zombie and smelled like burnt toast...that'll happen when the fishbowl spits out a nightowl that hasn't slept since the preceeding nooner. Goodtimes.

....saga, continue.....