Tis the Season

My credibility as a person who has something valuable to add to this discussion is waning like a mooning teenager at a four-night disco party.

I feel like a large, empty colon, which normally speweth forth energy.

STUPID WORK. TAKE AWAY MY HOURS OF DOING SHIT ALL TIME.

Ok, so, here’s the crux, I’ve hit a new record low of productivity ever since I’ve been working at my new job. I have written ONE HALF of a song, and it’s not even particularly good, a few lines of this play me and Scaifey are supposed to be editing, and JUST scraped a couple of comic strips in, each of them a day late. Budda bing budda what the fuck is wrong with my creativity gland.
In the middle of doing nothing TEE time, I was writing 3000 words a day at a minimum, I’ll be lucky if I can read more than a few pages of my current novel and then wham, sleep, and do it all again the next day.

I do enjoy preparing food for money though. It’s pretty interesting compared to all the other shit options available, such as the joy of delivery driving, and working at KFC. Suckers. The money is nice too. I’m finally rich enough to buy people Christmas presents. Which I still haven’t done, because I don’t have the time.

Merry Bitchmas.