Fit + Flabuless!

And not in the good, "We got tha . . ." kind of way.

No exercise today, my tummy hurts from eating too much curried chicken and the rash on my neck is itchy. No wonder I'm in a funk.

Not to mention San Francisco doesn't sound like fun anymore to me. Too bad I've already spent 900 gaddamned bills on it.

I just don't feel like being in my skin anymore. Maybe that's why I developed this rash. Yeesh.

I also can't find my freakin' iPod and it's depressing the hell out of me.

I'm a mess. And I'm tired of being a mess.

It must be time to go dancing.

I'm just tired of all the shit, man. Tired of working so hard with no payoff--literal or otherwise. Tired of wanting stuff that never shows up. Tired of being tired. Tired of trying to correct a destroyed thyroid. Tired of being fucking cheerful and inspiring for others when inside I'm all damp, crumpled, dead leaves that have fallen off the dying trees. Make those curried, damp, crumpled, dead leaves.

Oh fuck me. This is just depressing.

You still having fun on Coney Island? How many hot dogs have you eaten today?