Taxes and Ass Coffee

I ran out of good coffee, I had to steal some crappy beans from my brother (He lived off my good stuff till I asked for a contribution, he then switched to the cheap stuff saying "Coffee is Coffee"). As I drink this cup of boiled mud-shit, I assure you, Good coffee is Coffee, Paul's coffee is shit.

Paul and I are not really talking. He had a drunken blow-up man-tantrum at my moms house and somehow my mom thinks I antagonized him.

I try to avoid him when he is drunk or high, he can turn on a dime and is instantly confrontational.

I did my taxes for 2012, finally. I should get a nice little return in about 6 weeks (snail mail). I'm going to put it aside for Japan in the fall.

A friend sent me a job posting I think I could most certainly get. I could round out my income with the three warehouse shifts a week I am now working.

I met Kevin Flynn for dinner. It's Mardi Gras, we had pancakes. He was a good friend in high school, and I haven't seen him in a few years. He is so unique, I have missed him and I won't let so much time pass before we meet again.