what’s more dangerous:

the endless, banal, chatter of two college girls, which, while it lacks malice, is slowly corroding my intellect from contact;


impact on my hearing of a sufficient level of volume on my headphones to drown them out….

i know, i know. tune it out.

“i mean, it’s only may 31, but it is my birthday. how is it that one day can be so, like, special? and how does it seem like it takes FOREVER every year?”

….”like, now i have been here with you for FIVE hours, which is totally longer than i have spent with anyone on this birthday, even, like work?!”

“running with scissors, is this totally weird book, i mean, it’s funny, it’s like a DARK comedy… “

sorry. handbasket for one. i guess the answer to my query is option three, being an irritable old crank. 🙂

‘and i was weary already…’ points for nerds who can identify that