Stop Sending Me Credit Card Offers.

Look people. I don't know what gave you the idea that I should have a credit card, but you're offering a crack pipe to an addict. I thought that I'd ruined my credit to the point that you would stop this sort of thing. You must have some ignorant people at the helm of your mailing department because giving me a line of credit is like giving me a line of cocaine; destined to disappear soon and with tragic results.

At some point the desperation is going to get the better of me and I'm going to take your ridiculous APR, buy as much hash and liquor as will fit the trunk of a two seat coup, and I'm off to NY to pick up Andrew. Then it's the simple matter of driving until I get denied. Plane tickets, meals, cars, internet porn, games, phones, the things I could buy on credit and then just... enjoy life. Make a real month of it before ignoring my bill until the police come for me. So again, please stop sending me the offers.

It was bad enough when I was receiving business card offers for Tower Hill every week. Only my complete lack of fiscal management stopped me from making a "Business Trip" to Amsterdam on my $20,000 limit. I've been in the poor hole for so long that eventually you're going to catch me on the wrong day and that's going to be it. I'm out of here. Follow the paper trail to hell.

On an unrelated subject, if I could uninvent two things they would be: 1. The land mine and 2. The wireless keyboard. Who the fuck needs a wireless keyboard? You're at the computer. It's like a corded remote. If you have to see the screen you're close enough to suffer a cord. I don't even want to think of the batteries that have been wasted on this ridiculous idea. Mostly I'm angry because when the batteries start dying my abhorrent spelling becomes simply unreadable as spaces and letters fail to transmit themselves the two feet to the receiver. So yes. Glad I got that out.