Fuck talking to anyone, let alone strangers.

Board games give you false hopes for the real world. I say this because there is no way to win at life.

I used to be good at said game. I retired with millions of dollars, a wife and a truck load of offspring. But in this "real world" I am 24, single, living alone, and apparently couldn't get anyone in my 4 cylinder Honda if I paid them.

Regression aside, the argument is this:
Most people have shitty lives. Plain and simple. Teased in elementary school, sexual awkwardness of middle school, heart-breaking dumpings in high school (if one was "lucky" enough to be in a high school relationship). Lose your drunken virginity if you aren't assaulted in college. Maybe marry someone young. Have a shithead kid. Most likely end in divorce and pay child support for the rest of your pathetic life. Maybe remarry maybe not, but never find "true love" that's for goddamn sure. Then that little bastard of a kid puts you in an old folks home where they neglect you with your pants full of shit because you are too feeble to take care of yourself. You wish for death but fear it so you stay in a constant state of anguish, fear, and shit filled pants. Then you die. Innevitable.

Some have great lives. Make lots of money, marry his/her sweetheart. Travel the world. Have a couple of smart kids that do great things with their lives. Grow old in comfort, wealth and love. And die. See, that's the kicker in the "good life". Everything is so good you are tormented with having to leave it for the eternal sleep. When you have nothing, death is not so bad because you aren't really losing anything but life. No stuff, no friends, no relatives. Just your sorry excuse for a life. It's the richie rich's of the world that really have it bad. They have to say good-bye to so much.

Which brings me to my conclusion. Life is a fucking whore of a bitch who showed you a little bit of boob behind the chemistry building but never called you back. Life is the perfect high that you get that one time and can never repeat, but don't stop trying. Life is the 9-5, the daily commute, the cold dinners, the warm milk breakfasts, the slip and fall in the shower, the ingrown toe nail, the hairy fat gut at the beach, the pit stains in your shirts, the skid mark in your underpants, the reality that this is all there is.

And for some reason, I'm still here. I feel like I'm testing God to see how fucked up he really is. A staring contest. Come on, God, blink for Christ's sake.

Heres some lyrics for anyone who reads this to choke on (unless you are my sister)
"I came as ice, I came as a whore
I came as advice that came too short
I came as gold, I came as crap
I came clean and I came as a Rat
It takes a long time, but God dies too
But not before he'll stick it to you
Well I don't know, but I been told
You never die and you never grow old"