KILLER TOMATOES

Man, the news bums me out. Rebels are fighting Gadhafi’s regime in Tripoli, kids are trying to bomb their schools, hurricane Irene s’a’comin’, and Florida tomatoes are literally giving people cancer.

I can’t catch a break can I, world? Is it too much for me to be able to wake up in my secure house, in my ridiculously huge and comfy bed and not hear about other people’s problems? Christ, like I don’t have enough of my own. I ran out of orange juice last night and now I have to buy more. I can’t tell you how much I hate going to the grocery store, but I do. I hate it. Do you need to pile on the grief?

But let’s not be too hasty, because I also don’t want to hear stories of how awesome and successful other people are. I like to keep a good gap between my opinion of myself and the rest of you philistines, so I don’t need my news stories getting in the way of that. A light sprinkling of these stories atop a heaping helping of mediocrity sounds good to me. Leave the bad news out; it just bums me out and makes me feel like my problems aren’t real or important. And they are.

 

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