  i am jack's inflammed sense of rejection. i cannot describe the feelings of resentment and anger in me right now. i just interpret things differently than others, and that is my problem and not theirs, but i can still feel bitter about it. it's the beginning of the end, as i know it anyway. say what you will, we have reached the point of no return. doesn't anyone care about "not economically viable man?
" that guy totally rocks. he's my new hero. but does anyone give a shit about him? no. well i do, but i obviously don't count. what sucks is that this is what they always told me about.
and i refused to believe them. but they were right and i am wrong once again. dammit. you can only ever count on yourself. never forget that. ever.
it's the fucking truth. in the end, that's all you've got. this cryptic entry is a poem to myself. in case of fire, break the glass. does any of this ring a bell? i'm not playing around anymore, this is serious fucking business, so you had better get your shit together before you get your shit kicked in.
not by me of course, but by some random assailant in a ski mask. i don't make the rules, i just break them, and blame your sorry ass. figure it out man. it's all right here in the brochure. club med. $50 dollars a day.
all expenses paid. limited time offer. all sales are final. call now. thank you come again. batteries not included.
some objects are larger than they appear in the mirror. do not enter. for employees only. taxes not included. while quantities last. participating retailers only.
fuck you, fuck you very much. eat my ass motherfucker (an open invitation to toss my salad!). i am now photographically enabled as you can tell with my bitchin' picture of buddy christ almighty. "hail satan! " also, you can notice my blog has undergone a major schematic change. all part of the quality service here at oasisteria, inc. here's some, ahem, food for thought: if you were to take part in an act of feltching... is it better to be the feltchor or the feltchee?...
you thought about it didn't you?... is there really a better answer? isn't the better question, how do you go about proposing a feltch-fest? this is what keeps me up at night. so that's all for now. over and out... bitches. 
