Well, guess what. I didn't get the job. Of course I didn't. I was personally recommended by a blood relative of the company founder and I still couldn't close the deal. I give up. I surrender. Life, you win. You won before the cards were even dealt.

Now before you start telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself, remember it's been ME who has been on the receiving end of Life's blows for 41 years. Every time I even get anywhere CLOSE to a good place, Life takes it away. It dangles something good above me like you dangle a toy mouse on a string over a cat, then jerks it away. Sometimes it jerks it away as soon as I see it, other times it waits until I get close, close enough that I can almost, almost feel it, and then pulls back. My whole pathetic excuse for a life is Charlie Brown and the football. Oh no, not this time, there's no way Lucy/Life will pull the football away this time.

"So go somewhere new and start over." Sure, I'd LOVE to. But before you do that you only need to have $8,000 to throw around because you need to pay a security deposit, the first and last months' rent, oh and the second and third months' rent, plus you have to pay for a parking space, and pay the fee to be allowed to bring food into the apartment, and pay for your pathetic life for 85 months while you waste all your time applying for jobs that you won't get anyway because you don't have 80 years of experience, or you aren't married to the guy's daughter, or you didn't buy the guy a drink in Akron, Ohio in 1982.

Maybe I'll just cash out my 401K and live in Mexico. I hear you can buy a house down there for a quarter and the Coke is made with real sugar. I won't be able to find a woman who loves me for me, but up here I can't find a woman who will give me more than a passing glance so I might as well learn to take what I can get.

The last 41 years can be summed up in one question: "What do you want?" I have asked this question of Life many times and never gotten an answer. My life is a midterm exam where I'm not told what subject I need to be prepared for, but by God you better ace this thing because you get ONE shot and if you don't hit a bullseye you get set back five years and have to start all over again. Life refuses to tell me what I need to do to succeed but expects me to have all the answers and know exactly how to do rocket science from Day One. If Life would TELL ME what it wanted me to do, I would DO IT. But apparently knowing what I'm supposed to be doing is asking too much.

Screw this. I'm going to go live on Gilligan's Island and tell the Skipper to get his own damn coconuts.