I was born. I suffered.
I suffered some more, and hopefully,
I won't die a painful death.
This is my life.

Companies won't hire me because I aready make too much.

In my 35 minute interview today, 5 minutes of that actually getting interviewed, I realized that in a former life I must have been the commandant of a Nazi death camp, or at least the gold tooth puller. You all know that I have gobs of money laying around and I use 100 dollar bills to snort beluga caviar up my nose. I was asked how much I made at my current job and I'm sure he threw up into his mouth. I'm sure I had crossed the magic number and would never in a billion years be offered the job. Judging by the sparse office space and complete lack of chairs with what you would call "backs" employees aren't the first priority.

 I arrived home and approached the dreaded mailbox,  I cautiously opened it as usual, fearing some sort of hellish bill.  A gigantic envelope popped out and onto the ground.   It was from friendly neighborhood child support office.  It came with coupon for a vat of Vaseline.  I have a court date to determine if I have willfully have not been paying.  Oh yeah, if the judge deems that to be true, I could go to jail for six months.  Kick ass!