Here we are again.

Here comes another Saturday night, ready to leave.
As this boring night ends, I kinda like to think about how plans never really seem to work out.

It seems like at least one person bails out of a plan and kinda fucks with the logistics of it. It's weird, even something as simple and silly as drinking- usually 1 or 2 members from a group I'm associated with will bail out. Go figure.

Tonight we talked about getting hammered, which never really came to fruition. Monica said to give her a call, which I tried with no prevail. I also tried with Fro, who said he wasn't really digging the idea now.

It's whatever though.

You move on and find other things to amuse yourself.
If that doesn't happen, then you go to your basement and make a shot 3/4 whiskey and 1/4 nyquil and begin to chill.

I don't really blame ANYONE who bails out of plans, I usually blame myself.
It's some weird inferiority complex that I don't think I'll ever get rid of.

1. I just don't blame anyone who doesn't want to hang out with me, because I don't think I'd enjoy hanging out with me.

2. I have an insane anxiety and guilt complex. It's horrible, I'm always worried about if my friends are actually my friends.

Maybe I shouldn't be writing right now.

Fuck it, fuck it deck.

- Josh