I really shouldn't feel sorry for myself. But frankly I feel sorry for myself even when I do have heat. And television. And hot water. So tonight is the perfect night for self-pity. Let's have at it.
Problems of someone living in the first world (or just me):
Number one. I'm cold.
Two. I have a cough.
Three. I had to throw away $30 of perishable goods.
Four. I just spilled diet coke on myself.
Five. Chipped a nail.
Six. Have to take a cab everywhere.
Seven. I have to wake up for work tomorrow at 1p.m.
Eight. My internet is suddenly so slow. It's cutting into my streaming of free television
Nine. I bought the wrong copy of Mad Men Season 5, and now I have to go to Best Buy to return it.
Ten. My TV doesn't work, so I have to watch the newest episode of Homeland tomorrow instead of tonight.
Eleven. 4 missed calls. Stop calling, please just text and wait for me to call you, when I wake up from my 2nd nap of the day.
Twelve. I can't decide if I'm hungry or full.
Thirteen. There's a fly in my bathroom that I'm having trouble killing.
Fourteen. I'm really sick of Adele. Which is a shame because she's really talented.
Fifteen. Depression seems to be following me these days. But then I hear that Usher song and just realize I need a new playlist on my iPod. But making a new playlist takes too much effort.
Sixteen. I think I lost my favorite sock doing laundry.
Seventeen. I just got the iPhone 4S and now there's a 5. Will I ever be up to date with technology?
Eighteen. Snooki is rich.
Nineteen. I have to do laundry.
Twenty. It smells like garbage on the block next to me.
Twenty-One. Simba's dad dies in the Lion King and it makes me sad.
