Shuddup/I no longer have anything to blog about

Today was a sort of a pot-hangover induced malaise punctuated by online chatting and emailing. Sweet. Then I went for cheap beer on Broadway with Po and Coco and (woo hoo!) Coco lent me her copy of "The Jesus Incident" which I now have exactly one week to read to be ready for book club. I mean, I woulda felt pretty goddamn bad if, during my period of unemployment, I hadn't been able to accomplish the simple task of reading a book.
Then, once I was downtown and realized that I had thirty minutes to kill cause I'd missed the 9:15 seabus I thought to myself, Duder, I thought, maybe we can catch the #240. And hot damn if that wasn't the #240 trundling down Georgia, and I was able to dart across the street and catch the blessed thing (though I had already committed to sprinting to the next bus stop in the hopes of catching it because I like a lot of the finer things in life, but hanging around the downtown core for half an hour on a Wednesday night isn't one of them).
In other news I had a very strong desire to headbutt myself in the face today. I was chatting with Po and I was listening to the utter verbal diarrhea coming out of my mouth and I was like "SHUT THE FUCK UP!". I'm over it, man. I don't fucking care. Oh my god, stop whinging. It was horrible. And I felt horrible as I was talking to her because it is what it is and what.ever. No one knows and no one has the answers and that's it: enjoy the ride.
I am not "I did" or "I hope" or "I feel" or "I had" or "I think" or "I was" or "I want".
I. Am.
Fuck. That was the longest life lesson ever.