Wriggling sperm salmon their way upstream, and one out of a million gets to fuck its way into the egg and start some serious cell dividing. Nine months later... well, you know the story. (I hope.)

Go ahead, poop out more troublesome brats onto my filthy planet. Let 'em mutate and morph into teenagers, then adults. We need more bipeds clogging the arteries of society like brokedown cars in the center lane. Be my guest. That's how I got here, after all. Go fuck your brains out, I won't take it personally.

Is your weekend a sacred time to revel? Relax and unwind? Is it your own personal time when you get to do absolutely anything you damn well please? It is for me. Until recently.

I live with two people. One is about to start getting mail from the AARP. She just had her second grandchild, and her daughter has taken a weekend night job. How does this impact me? Well, she's the babysitter. For the last three weekends, she's had a newborn infant and a six year old polluting my living space. They arrive at dinnertime on Friday and depart midday on Sunday.

I can't turn up my music. I can't smoke cigarettes in the house. I can't drink and fart and be noisy and happy. I don't feel welcome in my own home during my sacred weekend. It's horrible. So I leave. Just like I will tonight.

Selfish, you say? You betcha. Don't get me wrong. I don't begrudge granny her right to see her kin. That's absolutely fine. Do I wish she could do this at her daughter's house, which is far cleaner, quieter, and a better environment for children? Yes, I do. They warned me the first two weeks this was scheduled to occur. They didn't this time. I got here loaded for bear with two packs of smokes, a 30 pack of Old Style, and a desperate desire to get wrecked.

Cancelled.

Now I have to beg my friends for a crash pad. Now I have to loiter elsewhere as a guest. I love my friends. Love hanging out with them. But I need some solo time. I karaoke alone, read alone, masturbate alone, practice Satanism alone, things like that. I'm going through withdrawal. It wouldn't be so bad if my buddies were the types to chill out at home on a Friday, but they aren't. They go out to nightclubs, bars, loft raves, anywhere they want. I'm stuck with whatever itinerary they have lined up. Considering I have an early phone shift tomorrow, I need to be unconscious by two a.m. The best I can hope for now is sunrise. Oh yeah, that all costs me precious money, too. This is the third weekend I'm a captive of forces outside of my control.

Am I pissed off? Oh yeah. But I know it's my fault I'm in this situation. I realize that. So I'm gonna fix it. Time to move. Soon. Very soon.

City proper, look out, 'cause here I come.

As for kids? Terrible monsters. Until I have some. Then I'll gladly tell you they're God's special little angels, full of light. And I don't even believe in God.

Have a nice weekend. You fuckers. 4:34 PM - Bottle Rocket Fire Alarm