Day Three

--Day three of internment--
Dear journal,
My captors still torment me, insisting that I eat dim sum with my brother and Hillary and my cousin Dave and his girl Annie.

Then they flogged me to search in vain for an open bar in the financial district on a Sunday. They cruelly separated us, insisting we drop David and Annie someplace crowded and then head back to The Ramp (they are trying to break me with repetition, as I was there yesterday) for alcohol and sunshine.

My captors then returned me to the cruel prison, where I was left with no other choice than to loaf in a casual manner on the couch for a few hours while drinking bourbon. They treat me like an animal, and that's exactly what I've become.

The inhuman living conditions are worsened when I was cast out into the harsh cold of the night and forced to watch screen-projected moving images before finding myself the victim of barfly syndrome, a condition that manifests near the bottom of pint glasses and carries such side effects as blurred memories and excessive smoking.

I don't know how much longer I can hold out under these oppressive conditions. My liver grows weaker as I try to cling to my remaining shreds of humanity.

In other news:

Tech 21 Oklahoma 65 while the fog rolled in and I got shitfaced and ate Indian chow.



Shortly thereafter, I witnessed Bela Fleck playing sh!tty CHRISTMAS MUSIC. Not impressive. I haven't even had my turkey yet, asshole.


I woke up on the couch holding an empty pizza to-go-slice box at some point last night, and then stumbled off to bed.


Vacations rule.