February 26, 2010 by Manny Wordsmith
The weekend is staring me right in the eyes, asking me what I’m gonna do next!
It’s hard when money’s tight. It’s like an invisible set of handcuffs clasping you to a bed post and stopping you from escaping into a world you can’t afford. Mature adults usually know when they should play the game or just sit one out. But if you’ve had a week like mine…a week trying to ignore sloppy lookin, orange tinted, white girls who constantly interrupt lectures with empty thoughts…
“Hey wasn’t Gandhi the monk that lit himself on fire during Vietnam? That was harsh!”
…then its harder to resist the call of the wild, the thrill of the chase! The cold beers and flashing lights infused with morally cheap women and Buckcherry songs! I need these small blips of life to make the constant revolving doors of redundancy less prevalent. I mean my weekends out are the only things that stop me from beating up teenagers and facebook stalking my ex’s! They stop me from chaining myself to this laptop and watching multiple seasons of Lost on Netflix, which is the mental equivalent to walking in a circle for 2 days straight.
So I blow the cash I don’t have just to get a rush that allows me to forget how cynical or wack I can be. The weekends are my weakness