Comments: True Story #42

So I was unemployed. After about a week of hitting 'the usual suspects' (restaurants, bars, temp agencies, etc.) and getting nowhere, I did what any sensible person would do. I called my friend J, a diagnosed paranoid schizophrenic, and suggested we buy a few bottles of cheap wine and get drunk.

Bottle one: I complained; he raved about Reagan.
Bottle two: I cried; he raved about how coupons are actually a form of government surveillance.
Bottle three: I wailed "Rent is due in a week! What the fuck am I going to do?!" and bashed my head through the wall; he raved about the mood-altering drugs his landlord puts in the drinking water, told me he could get me a job sub-contracting, and threw up a brilliant tapas/red wine combo all over the couch I had just bought from the Salvation Army.