That's not entirely correct. I called in sick to work on this fucking server. There's a guy that I do some work for - he bought a new server with Small Business Server 2003 on it. All his machines are Windows 98. I'm testing with my own Windows 98 box on the floor of my bedroom. I have to lean over the keyboard or lay on the floor like a kid watching cartoons. I can't lay on the floor like I used to; now I get a stiff neck and then sometimes a migrane that creeps up my neck and makes my eyes and ears hurt.

The browser service doesn't work. I've been fighting it for days. This time is supposed to be billable but how can I bill for something like 25 hours because I can't get the browser service to work properly? On a test machine, nonetheless. That's why I called in sick; because my boss asked me what was taking so long. I'm not making any progress so I decided to stagnate on my own time.

Stagnate and eat Slim Jims and wonder what the fuck I'm doing and how I've managed to fool everyone this long.

I was thinking about Morissey. I don't like Morissey too much. I may even be spelling his name wrong. Morissey only dated fat chicks untill he was gay. If I were a fat highschool girl I would totally dig the Smiths. Some jackoff wrote a book about trying to get the Smiths back together. He's a rock journalist and the character in the book is a rock journalist.

Fucking hipsters. The only thing worse than a fucking hipster is an aging hipster and the only thing worse than an aging hipster is an aging hipster who writes a book about how he's an aging hipster. Please, make a noose out of your white belt and hang yourself with it, or drink yourself to death, but please do so quietly.