…I can’t wait for Sunday morning.

I wonder if I’ll live to be 65.

Which is better: being a recluse and pursuing all of the hobbies and interests that engage your mind, at the cost of being a lonely pathetic bastard, or going out with friends to bars and clubs and killing a few million brain cells? I guess the question really is, is it better to be satisfied mentally or socially?

I watched Idiocracy last night. It started off strong; the beginning was hilarious. I was cracking up for the first half hour or so. It kind of got a little silly after that, though.

I haven’t bought any new shirts in a while. It makes me feel empty.

I wonder what my IQ is? Before I started drinking, I usually tested between 130 and 150. I’m sure it’s dropped by 50 points or so. Thanks alcohol! IQ means nothing, anyway. I could have an IQ of 250+ and I’d still be a fucking moron.

On the way to work this morning, there was a doctor on the radio expounding the virtues of vegetarianism. I thought about my own eating habits and health. I’m probably going to have a heart attack before I hit 30. I’ll be damned if I’m going to stop, though. Living isn’t really that great anyway, and I love cheeseburgers and steak.

The situation in Boston last week cracks me up. For those that don’t know, an ad agency came up with some little Lite Brite-esque signs featuring the mooninites from Aqua Teen Hunger Force and hung them up in various cities. Boston found some and freaked out, thinking they were bombs. The city basically shut down for a few hours because these things had batteries and wires. No other cities responded the same way. They arrested the guys who came up with the idea, and Turner Broadcasting paid two million bucks to the city to cover costs and get them to quit bitching. It’s ridiculous. I’m glad that people are on alert for bombs. That’s always a good thing. However, a simple inspection of the device would have shown that there were any EXPLOSIVES in it. Caution is good, idiocy is bad.

I have a semi-recurring dream that includes an earthquake and my father. I call it semi-recurring because those are the only two common elements. It’s always in a different setting, the outcome is always different, and it often interrupts other dreams. This time, I was at some sort of mall. It was probably Lynnhaven Mall, since the earthquake caused a tidal wave. Dad was paralyzed, and I had to drag him to safety. I don’t remember the rest. Sometimes he dies, sometimes I’m the one who gets hurt. It’s a weird dream because there isn’t really a recurring concept.

Let us speak of the Super Bowl. I am not generally a football fan. I feigned interest in middle and high school to try to keep my father from calling me worthless so often. I’ve only cared about the Super Bowl in the past because it was an excuse to get drunk. I intended to skip it this year, but I was lured in by the promise of delicious and numerous chicken wings. I enjoyed many. The game itself sucked. The commercials were overall pretty lame. I thought the beard combover one was quite funny, as well as the Lady and The Tramp Snickers commercial. Speaking of which, I read a story today saying that Snickers got a bunch of complaints saying that the commercial was homophobic and has pulled it from the air and their website. That’s pretty ridiculous. Prince’s halftime show was pretty sweet. There were complaints about that as well. People said that his guitar-playing shadow projected on a sheet looked a little phallic. People will complain about anything. I blame the fact that it’s so easy to communicate now. Email, blog comments, cheap long distance and 800 numbers… It takes no effort whatsoever to voice your dumbass knee-jerk opinion these days. If everyone had to hand-write a letter and physically mail it themselves, or perhaps pay a small fee to call a corporate office and then wait on hold for an hour, they’d think twice, because people are lazy and cheap.

As time passes, my desire to destroy the planet grows more and more. But time is an illusion. What if the earth really is the only planet in the universe that contains life? Would it really be that tragic for it to be snuffed out?

I read an article yesterday, submitted anonymously, by an author whose life sort of fell apart because his son did a lot of drugs and was out of control for a long time. Then he started buying ecstasy from him and everything turned around for them both. It was a weird thing to read. Predictably he started promoting the legalization of drugs, which sort of ruined it for me, but it was interesting nonetheless.

You know what’s delicious? Panang curry. You know what’s not delicious? Mushrooms.

I’m bored.