For the record, I love lists and hierarchies. I love ranking everything. When I was younger I used to rank my favorite CDs that I owned, my favorite friends, my favorite quotes, my favorite life moments, my favorite sports moments. I am a self-confessed listaholic. I’ve checked in to rehab for it, but when I tried to rearrange the 12 steps… God himself kicked me out. Fuck you, God.
Of course… I am all the way to the airport now. I don’t even remember how I got here. Am I still driving? Yes. I am. And I am in the wrong parking lot. For the love of all that is holy, what the hell am I doing in… oh, shit I’ll just park at McDonalds. I’ll say my car broke down. What, someone’s gonna tell me that thing looks like it can start? You can’t ticket or tow that beast. I’ll park it sorta off to the side so as not to cause a disturbance. I hate causing disturbances. If I could just slip through life unannounced except for when I do something grand and majestic, then I would. Naturally. What an obvious statement. Scratch that.