woke up with a strange tattoo

It's funny the things we do, you know, as humans. Money and work and companionship and feeling connected and combing our hair. Just the craziest stuff that's normal. But, let's face it, it's fucking crazy.

I don't know, you know? A few whiskeys and I'll type, erase, re-type, re-erase and re-re-type a blog post. Nothing seems to make sense, just that I'm tired. I work too much and feel insanely under appreciated and a tad bit lonely. Over worked and a little bit drunk, those two things probably go hand in hand. But I hate doing that shit alone in Indianapolis in a hotel bar. Anyway, I'm selling the shit out of moth balls and fly swatters this weekend. Twice a year, for 3 whole days at a time, I sell hardware or things that get sold in hardware stores. Weird, right? Let's face it though, selling is in my blood.

I'm ending this before it makes less sense than right now.