Prick Tunes: Sophie B. Hawkins "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover"

Whenever I paint the picture of myself ending it all, I do it as follows:

I light some candles and draw a bath. I feel the water to make sure it's warm. I put on Sophie B. Hawkins's "Damn I Wish I Was Your Lover." I get into the tub and reminisce (not lewdly) about when Dylan held Kelly in his arms on the beach in that classic summer episode of 90210. Then I knock the toaster that had been leaning precariously on the edge of the tub into the water.

Today (I'm writing this on Christmas night), I spent three or four hours at the place that I work as the Austin Fire Department put out a massive fire. Unlike really any other job I've had, I truly love that job. It's weird, but I've never been as happy at a workplace as I've been in my five years in the employ of Capital Cruises. Now the job I love hangs in limbo. While the scenario I just painted is an exaggeration, I have no idea what is going to happen to the owner, who I respect so much, and my friends and co-workers, who I'd sincerely miss seeing every day.

I'm so fucking down.

Oh, I really don't know how active I'll be this week. Sorry in advance.