Somebody

So here I am, on yet another holiday, alone. What a surprise. I tried to find someone to spend it with me, but his crotch is too powerful and he can't take the pressure. So either way, I'm the one that gets screwed. Tomorrow I'll drive up the coast and have dinner with 40 people I don't know, then bed down in a hotel room and watch HBO till my eyes fall out. Doesn't that sound like fun? Don't you wish you could be there? Guess who doesn't? If I sound bitter, it's because I am. But that should come as no big surprise after all this time.

I wish I could say I like the holidays, but of course that kind of mirth is long forgotten. I don't remember the last really good holiday I had. And if a gal can't at least have good holidays, then what is the point of living? Oh yes, HBO. And good room service. I guess my strategy has turned into making my own "fun", which essentially consists of driving to strange places and acting like I'm somebody, even though everyone will know better, because if I were really somebody, I wouldn't have nobody with me. God I'm a loser.