Wasting Time

Today, it dawned on me that I've been at my job for over 3 years now.

What a fucking company man.

I don’t talk very much about my job here because, well, I’m not stupid. A regular paycheck is something that I enjoy and I would like to keep receiving. Also, insurance is nice, especially since 120 pills of Xanax would cost me a pretty penny on the street (through my insurance: $5).

And to be honest, there’s not too much to say about my job. I'm an engineer. I like it a lot. I find the work interesting. My co-workers are cool. The job is zero stress. The pay is good. I can drive to work in about 25 minutes. And I work from home at least 2 days a week. I might even love my job. I don’t know how many other non-famous 30 year olds can say that about their employment.

I could honestly do what I do for the rest of my life and not complain. Sure, I’d like salary increases and promotions and all that jazz, but I could make a good, happy, comfortable living at my job and be content. I can see myself in ten years still living in the suburbs in New Jersey, loving a sweet unsuspecting wife who maybe is missing something physical (hand, knee, etc), raising two horrendously obese children, owning a large dumb dog and a luxury automobile, carrying on an affair with one of the lawyers I work with, drinking myself into a state of emotional deadness, spending sleepless nights praying for a heart attack - basically, living the American dream.

But of course, that doesn’t mean that I don’t aspire to other things. While I can appreciate how good I have it right now in the corporate world, that doesn’t mean that I wouldn’t like to get paid to write jokes about shitting myself while sitting in my underwear in my bedroom, taking frequent beer and jerk off breaks. Also, with a big bag of yellow corn tortilla chips and a jar of Newman's Own Peach salsa, which is the greatest salsa I’ve ever had - by far. Great fucking salsa.

And I’m kinda close to this writing poop jokes while eating/drinking/masturbating for a living thing. I'm determined to write a book or something, and that determination will end only if I die or if I lose my eyesight. Since I’ve been doing a lot of experiments recently that involve fire and cans of hair spray, I’d say the blindness is more likely, but death is not that far behind.

I just need to find a way to get rich first, so I can take lots of time off to do this writing thing. As of now, I work full-time, write here sometimes, AND still find time to live a (semi-)happy and (not really) promiscuous lifestyle.

I don’t even know where I was going with this, but the points are:

1) I’ve been working for the same company for three years and I'm 30 now (though I like my job)
2) I need to get rich so I can take time off
3) I’m busy now and it sucks
4) Send me pictures of your boobies
5) This post is completely fucking retarded or at least very incomplete because I have great difficulty writing anything about work

Yeah, that about covers it. Um, more later.