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Tuesday, July 15, 2003
Rather than try and defend my manhood, I’ll let you know that I’m having one of those days. Y’know, the ones where your band was doing some live recording at a closed club the night before and you were up way too late (crawling into bed sometime around 12:45 a.m.) and you have trouble getting to sleep because you’re convinced one of your needy cats is gonna jump on your chest and start meowing incessantly and after falling asleep you’re awakened seemingly minutes later by your baby daughter playing in her crib and upon looking at the clock it’s 5:35 a.m. and you have to get up because it’s your job to get up first and you have to make a bottle for your daughter’s breakfast and once you finally get to work you have to start right on that report with no “settling in” blogging or e-mailing because that report is going to the U.S. EPA and it was supposed to go out yesterday and how you wish there was a Starbucks across the street even though you don’t support chain coffee stores you’re not gonna drink the coffee-service coffee no matter how goddamn out of energy you feel but you know that lunch will come soon and you'll eat your Lean Pocket and your Cajun-flavored Pringles and your plastic-bagged Frosted Flakes and drink your Sprite and you will lose at Go but win at Cribbage and all will be okay, somehow?

Yeah? Well, I lost at Cribbage, so my day isn’t like yours at all.

Fucking six-game winning streak right down the shitter.