When Your Life Looks Like a Book You Wouldn't Read.

I'm leaving work shortly for a team outing. We're going bowling. I am, apparently, a team leader. I have a team of bowlers under me. I was supposed to contact my team and coordinate matching Chicago sports team outfits. I did not do this. I would not do this. This just isn't me.

It's half a day off from work, but at what cost? Will I have to engage in "goofy" bowling activities? Will I have to bowl while holding the hand of a teammate? What does one's soul cost, friend?

Sometimes, you wake up in the morning and evaluate the choices you've made in life. Oftentimes, you end up sighing and shaking your head.

And kid, I'm a mess, if it looked good, you're seeing things, I guess.

So, I'm listening to Jets to Brazil and just kind of contemplating.

Before I go- a week ago, I mentioned that the sounds of sex coming from the apartment above would be preferable to the sounds of television. Last night I woke at midnight in a literal cold sweat hearing said sex sounds from the upstairs apartment. It chilled me to the core. That kid should not be engaged in any activity from which the squeaky sounds of bedsprings are produced. I hope, nay, pray, and am close to convincing myself that the source of the sound was him jumping on the bed in a tizzy over having secured Star Wars tickets. Probably, though, he was nailing a block of microwaved cheese.