Poor Poor Pitiful Me

You know what sucks? Having problems, that's what. It's such a total drag that my personality and behaviors have been aligned so as to avoid ever having any problems at all. Because they suck.

You know what else sucks? Having problems that are totally not as important as everyone else's. My problems are so not serious that I feel guilty even complaining about them. It'd be like me going up to a leukemia victim and saying, "Yeah, that cancer business is probably rough, but I've got some serious respiratory issues too. I've got this zit right under my right nostril that is constantly agitating my nose and making me sneeze frequently. It's pretty rough."

But anyways. Here's my list of stuff that's bumming me out:

I'm not sorta kinda dating Rachel anymore, and that makes me sad in a very, very selfish and personal sort of way.

- Also I am exceptionally awful at meeting women, so it doesn't appear that I'll be dating anyone anytime soon.

-- Well, ok, my mom has been trying to introduce me to a new teacher at the elementary she thinks I'd like. According to Mom, "She's blonde... and she's tall. Those are good things."

--- However, if she teaches during the day, and I attend psychiatrically during the evenings, that leaves approximately half an hour a day that I might be able to talk to her. I am not optimistic.

---- I cancelled my subscription to Yahoo! Personals after it insisted for months that no one within 50 miles was interested in dating me.

----- Moving on.

My car is falling apart, one light and knob at a time. My passenger tire randomly went flat.

- I have no spare.

-- My car's vacuum is also not working properly, I'm told.

--- I've been dead broke up until today, and next paycheck is already earmarked for bills, so my hopes of having money in the bank for a couple of weeks have been absolutely shot.

All of my friends, Rachel included, are going through way worse stuff than this right now. Worse, only two of them seem vaguely concerned or aware that I'm having problems.