Rich guy complains about shit

I'm in a shit-tastic mood. I'm in one of those "put on my sweatpants and watch 5 seasons of Boston Legal" kinds of moods. One of those "I prefer mind numbing entertainment and sleep to waking life because any minimal degree of self-reflection immediately induces anxiety and humiliation" kinds of moods. One of those "get an IV drip and fill it with nacho cheese and ground up pizza and stick it into my vein cause I just don't give a shit anymore" kinds of moods. One of those "hey, the wind blew out my last match and now I'm sitting in the pitch dark in the freezing snow waiting to see if the hypothermia or the wolves will kill me first" kinds of moods.

You know what I'm talking about? Can I get an A-fucking-men here?!

Just a shitty, shitty mood. Like a "I might just sit here and pee myself until someone comes and takes me away to the place with the little paper cups and the comfortable pants" kinds of moods. Similar, in fact, to a "I studied for 20 hours straight but still can't understand this shit" kind of mood. Not entirely unlike an "on the way to my job interview, I spilled coffee on my shirt and now my bookie is gonna break my wife's fingers" sort of mood.

Do ya feeeeeeel me?! Ya know what iz that that I iz talkin about??????

Alright...well, maybe not EXACTLY like that. I might be exaggerating for dramatic effect. I'm not gonna discuss my personal life out here in the open on the internet, but suffice it to say that the person with whom I have shared a bed most frequently in, oh, the last few years is an orange and black sock monkey, and holy shit, is he hard to impress! His coldness is a great burden for my sensitive little heart to bear. Love me, damnit! Love me, Sock Monkey!!!! LOOOOOOVE MEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!!!!