I Hate Me, 318,993
This one is pretty slight:
Being fifty one (Fifty Won-derful or Fifty One foot in the grave, depending on the day*), I have the worries of a normal person. Work, bills, family, the imminent destruction of mankind by our own hand, The Mets, etc. but I also have problems that I thought I would have (read: should have) left in my childhood. Example, I got a great fEEDTIME sticker from Sub-Pop when I bought their box set. I was such a mutant that even though I work in a proper record store (suit and tie required) I ordered it directly from Sub-Pop, so I knew I would get it in case it sold out, because you know how great the interest would be in a box set for an old Australian band that 99.99 percent of the country never heard of (their loss). Anyhow, this sticker is great but I only got one and I still haven’t put it on anything. Do I put it on my car? I’m gonna eventually get rid of that car and then what. No sticker, that’s what. I have a binder that I have all my band’s lyrics in, there’s a lot of cool stickers on that but it’s kind getting beat up, do I put it on there and then when I need a new binder carefully cut out the fEEDTIME sticker and tape it to the new binder? I don’t know, it’s vexing. So there it sits in a shoebox next to my checkbook and couple of hard drives. Maybe somebody can affix it to my coffin.
*I don’t know if I used this puckish description of my age before, if so I apologize.
Sincerely, Creeping Senility