Confession of a Cynic

You know, I'm getting more and more cynical with the passage of time. I drove by one of College City's many sorority mansions this afternoon on my way to campus and uttered a profanity just looking at a couple of party girls dressed up for Monday dinner. This episode leads me to believe that I need:

A wife

A job that pays moderately well

A pint of Guinness

A piece of land and some cans to shoot at

This combination of stress-relieving materials and abstracts would allow me to relieve some of my cynicism. Instead, I'll now load up a Gregorian chant CD and spend two or three hours listening to the Quran. Whoohoo, party time!

UPDATE: Oh, one more thing. A couple of months ago (before I started blogging) I saw a harbinger of the Apocalypse, something that told me that the anti-Christ was on his way. That anti-Christ? Scott Stapp. That harbinger? Creed released a greatest hits album.

Creed. Yeah, okay, so I suppose they debuted in what, 1997? So that's... Wait, you have to be kidding me. Creed's been out for seven or eight years? That can't be right...