I think Thursday should be renamed, Will-This-Week-Please-End-Day.

I did end up working the bike night last night. It was cold as hell, too. Every woman who approached had the brights on if you know what I mean. We had one lady come up who was told by the owner of the bike shop that she could have a free long sleeve t-shirt. She was mid forties, looked kinda ragged. She had some obviously fake boobs. By obvious I mean they were huge, and she told us they were fake. After trying on like four shirts that were painfully too small, she found one that fit over her x-large jello molds. The guy I was working with said we’d throw in a pair of panties. Yes, we have logo panties. They are boy-short types that ride up your crack types. She was all for that. She even volunteered to try them on for us. Now, I’m all for random nudity and stuff, but I had no desire to see this skank in those underwear. She fully intended to get into the trailer with us and model them for us. Luckily, another customer came up and she just decided she’d take the smalls, she wasn’t a small, and go. She started to leave, and she yelled back, “thank you, boys,” and shook her boobs at us. She literally put her hands under her boobs and shook them up and down. Classy. Granted, the lady was crocked, but jeez. The owner comes over later and we ask what the deal is with this broad. Turns out she’s a real estate agent who specializes in high end homes and apparently does quite well. What kind of real estate agent has double-D fake boobs? I think she throws in something extra with each house they sell.

Apparently yesterday’s story of my second wife came across as a major downer. I didn’t intend it that way. Although I hate the bitch for cheating on me, I don’t regret divorcing her one bit. I am so much better off now, emotionally, physically and mentally. I guess you can say that I regret ever getting involved with her, but it did lead me to where I am now. I don’t know how I would have turned out otherwise. I was having a hard time before her, but I was independent and had pulled my life back together on my own. Maybe I would have done that again. It’s all what-ifs now. My life is not to my satisfaction now, by any means, but it’s better than it was. I’m not happy in my love life. I don’t feel fulfilled by it emotionally or sexually. I’m not where I want to be in my career. I don’t think you’d call what I do a ‘career’. It’s a job, pretty good, but not great. I’d prefer to make my living writing, but there is much call for a writer who just blogs and occasionally works on a novel. I guess the one part of my life I am happy with is my family. Meaning my kids. I think I have a good relationship with them. My oldest is going through the “I’m fourteen and my dad is a dork and annoying” phase, but I can deal. My middle daughter is a sweetheart. And my youngest is a dream. See, I guess I do have something to be happy about. But I’m pretty much the kind of person who is never completely satisfied. I generally feel like something is missing in my life.
Is that me or society or my generation?