Gimme Drugs

The worst thing about being a 'suicide survivor' (although I might use the term 'suicide failure') is that no one will subscribe you drugs anymore. If I can't sleep I'm told to count sheep or drink warm milk or listen to a frigging wave machine. I can't get no sleeping mediacation!

If I had tried to off myself with a kitchen knife would utensils be off limits? Would I have to eat my steak with my hands and teeth? Jesus, this world is nuts! And I still can't sleep!

Back to Hell

Finally Barry relented and gave me my job back. I really just think he couldn't get anyone to work through Christmas. Prick.

Just to rub it in he played the goddamned greatest hits of Night Ranger all day on his shift. Prick.

It will be nice to have a paycheck again, but Night Ranger??? Prick.

Barry Still the Prick

Man, I can't believe this! You would think suicide would be an adequate excuse for missing work but NO! I've spent the better part of this week begging Barry to give me my job back. Begging! It's just a lousy retail gig, it's not like that prick could get anyone else to do it. I should've gotten Natalie or those damned head doctors write me a frigging note!