Marked by Death, Judged by a Cat
A thought was burning a hole in my skull when I woke up this morning. Something important. Something sharp. And then a black cat named Lucifer jumped on the bed and punted the remote into oblivion, derailing both my inspiration and my dignity. Healing is loud, life is stupid, and apparently the only creature who understands me is also the one who keeps sabotaging me.
Micro-Rant: Your Voicemail Is Too Damn Long
I had to call my insurance adjuster today, and of course he didn’t answer — but the real crime was his voicemail. Why are people still recording long-ass greetings like it’s 1997? Nobody needs a personal monologue before the beep. Just let me leave the damn message.
American Roulette
A cold morning ride, coffee with a colleague, and a breakfast date that turned into a protest invite — another reminder that dating in your fifties is American Roulette, and I’m better off riding solo.
Shut Up and Shoot: A Pool League Rant
Most people don’t join the bar pool league to compete—they join to drink and pretend they’re Minnesota Fucking Fats. Meanwhile, I’m just trying to sink shots, skip the lectures, and get home before sunrise.