It is hot inside this macaroni

Bryant’s heroics once again saved the Purple and Gold.

So I am listening to this song as I write and the refrain/chorus, whatever the hell you want to call it, keeps repeating the phrase that “I am no cyberwhore.” That is funny.

A friend and I have a new idea for a mildly adult themed cartoon—artists wanted, inquire within.

Poverty is no longer creeping into my life—it is full speed ahead and the bastard doesn’t look like it has any intention of slowing down. This, as I’m sure you can imagine, presents all sorts of difficulties.

There are all sorts of templates for things. My eyes hurt and feel warm to the touch—must be the heat today. Why is it that when the weather heats up, this city all of a sudden smells like excrement and cat piss? It makes no sense to me—especially at 13:30 in the middle of the financial district. Speaking of Wall Street, we now have 4 new midday hobos (one of them is actually a hobette). One dude just sleeps all day next to the side of a building, he’s chill. He doesn’t bother with begging or asking for something or preaching impending doom, he just sleeps—by night he is gone. It is hobo, hobette and their little hobito that get me. They sit around with a plethora of signs about how hobo just got laid off and how they are hard up. Now I’m as liberal as the come but, GET A FUCKING JOB! You have a kid for god sake and your sitting begging on a street where nobody gives a damn about you. Better yet they are doing it away from the touristy area—they aren’t getting any vacation pity. The reason they piss me off so much is because they have hobito. Why do you have a kid on the streets—it is not a prop. They spend their prime job hunting time on the street begging. You can tell they haven’t been on the streets long, because each day they are remarkably clean and groomed. They other guy that sleeps all day looks as if he was born in dirt. I also think he might have to have his feet amputated.

I love short paragraphs.