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Taking Phoebe's advice and going out wasn't such a bad idea after all.

And let me have said, once and for all, that going to bars and not drinking is the slickest predatory move ever devised. Sure it’s a long drive and like eight bucks for a Pepsi, but the with your head clear and eyes open, chasing tail is like shooting blind, drunken, promiscuous fish in a barrel of terrible music ... with a Howitzer. I can’t believe I’ve never thought of it before! In the space of a few hours, this chick I never met before leaves her panties in the car, pounces me in a cheap motel, and now wonders why I have "irrational insecurities over our relationship prospects".

[*sigh*]

My plan to quit smoking hasn't really made much headway, however. This one last vice will undoubtedly be the most difficult of all. Everything I do makes associations with it: driving, working, writing ... I'm thinking about spending some time out of town over the holidays and tackling it then.

But for now, I'm more worried about the bills. It's not that I can't afford to pay them, it's the fact that I'm sick and stuffy; the voice-activated services in place are getting thrown off by my sniffing, sneezing and coughing. It took an hour to do the gas bill ... and now I'm debating whether to even try Comcast ...

Can’t somebody cure this? My cold is fucking up commerce now ...

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