The Hidden Costs of Aggravation

Work is great, but getting there and back is hell. I can’t even begin to explain to you how much frustration Stephanie and I go through on a daily basis to get me to and from Boston. And the cost! Jesus, paying for train tickets every day is killing me. Tonight Stef picked me up at a T stop instead because I missed my commuter rail train, but that ended up being a long ride for her and who knows if we didn’t just break even when it comes to the price of gas and the hidden costs of aggravation.

Was that last sentence supposed to end with a question mark? I’m not sure and right now, I don’t care.

You shouldn’t be worried though. When has my disregard for the rules of grammar ever signaled a mental collapse? Well, I mean, there was that one time. But he had it coming, man!

In completely random news, the Sox are currently engaged in televised batting practice with the Tampa Bay Devil Rays. Stephanie has made the observation that Tampa Bay doesn’t actually play in Tampa Bay. I have countered with the revelation that the Buffalo Bills play in Orchard Park, the Washington Redskins play in Maryland or Virginia, and the New York Jets and Giants play in New Fucking Jersey.

And, well, that’s all for now, folks. Whether I have used a comma here or there that’s unnecessary or downright incorrect, it is no matter. I have finished another of these things and I am now one week away from being twenty-seven years old. Rock star that I am, I am looking forward to that last glorious year of life and am now open to suggestions for how I should go out.