Reality seems to be getting crazier by the day and I hate where this train is headed. I used to think I was kind, considerate and patient (no bragging here) but more often than not I just feel like David Lynch's Angriest Dog in the World. "The dog who is so angry he cannot move. He cannot eat. He cannot sleep. He can just barely growl. Bound so tightly with tension and anger he approaches the state of rigor mortis." Jason's mother used to send Creative Loafing to us from Atlanta when we were in college and I loved this comic strip. Now I'm starring in it. Hearing other people arguing repulses me. The other day I was at the store and one of those 'not ugly but too bland to be good-looking' cardboard college couples stopped beside me and began whining at each other over how mild the picante sauce had to be and I reeeeallly wanted to shove my finger down my throat and projectile vomit all over them, then smirk at them like Rik from The Young Ones as I stomp off and slip a little in my own mess.