In the Clutch of the Crazies

Yeah, they're back. The crazies are getting me. And blue is blue but this has got to stop. I've toyed with the idea of seeing someone but the last thing I need is more drugs and further expense to add to the stress of working a bagillion (bajillion?) hours and not bringing home the bacon. Speaking of bacon, the crazies are making me fat, like, um, this fit yesterday, what can't I get it zipped, fat.

So the new thing is going to be how to not let the crazies get to me. Plan isn't a simple, somehow I have to become happy. And how does one become happy?

I think Martin Page and Francois Lelord seem to know how. But they're French so maybe it's a French thing, this happiness and contentment. Or maybe it's a man thing. But I'm leaning toward French. And maybe it's not a thing at all, because I'm reading these books and the characters find that after the search everywhere only to realize that what they had before was quite alright. So is what I have quite alright?

I guess I have to go through a great journey, across the globe, I must meet people who are happy and sleep with many, many happy men what want nothing other than a roll in the hay and nuzzling. Wait, that sounds French, or fictional. Too many books. But I do think the journey part of the idea holds water.

So the journey thing, you say I should go? Who pays? I'm still looking into the whole sugar daddy thing, the boss man tells me that all this fellow needs is $8 million in the bank and I can live on a slim four hundred thousand in interest every year. Which I think, maybe I could handle. Maybe, if I watched my electric bills and lived on rice and beans for two meals a day. I think I could do it.

Oh, right, but I can't because it was a thing that The Today Show exploited for ratings in the last week or so. This is a warning to The Today Show: Stop stepping on my toes, until I'm good enough to work for a living I need this. Thank you.

Then again, maybe my outed plan can still work, rich old men don't get up to watch The Today Show, they read the newspaper!

So anyhow, if anything a few weekends away, a few dates (take the freaking hint!), that could be the band-aid on the bullet wound for a bit. A real job would be super fantastic. A place to live. More French books?

Here's to the search for happiness!