1946 [yankees encore]

Omelettes for dinner are good. Every night. Cholesterol can suck my dick. Two eggs, chopped olives, jalapenos,  orange cheese, salt, pepper, an Indian pale ale and a shot of good tequila on the side. The minibar in the living room helped reduce the echo, yo. Are you tired of hearing about the echo? The echo makes me sad, fuck you. Jeter just scored, fuck you again. I miss her. I am lonely. Is that pathetic? Fuck you. Someone told me to get used to it because we are always alone anyway no matter what. That even as we tell ourselves we are getting to know someone on a deep level we go out of our way, really, to avoid that so we can keep alive the illusion that we have created around them, our perception of them, which is a lie to protect ourselves, to make us think we are not alone. Fucking hell. Some asshole just hit a homerun off Burnett. Sonuvabitch. I was going to say something else but I forgot what it was. Too bad for you because it would have changed your life, your lonely, sad, empty life.