Unlimited Breadsticks, Soup and Salad Days

I bought a couch and a grill and a table with chairs, paid for gas, like, the whole way down here, electric n' cable, a shelf n' end table, almost a hundred bucks worth of veggie burgers and buns. I bought a case of beer and the charcoal to light
and said "we should do this every single night, don't worry about the cash because I've got the scratch and I can't save my money because that's impolite."

I don't know why I always complain about something when what I got to complain about's nothing. No goddamn kid's had a luckier year and I'm bitching about internet and beer.

And just like that I'm broke, not a buck to my name and nothing to do with the rest of the day. No parties last all night, just tv and websites and reproduction Peanuts strips I've read a million times. Can we please ride bikes and not just sit inside all day letting fresh Georgia air go to waste? It's really not funny how bad I am with money so let's pedal as far as it takes to think about something else.

I don't know why I always complain about something when what I got to complain about's nothing. No goddamn kid's had a luckier year, somebody break out the no more tears.

As we sit around being broke, I'm losing my penchant for jokes; it's just wry half-truths from a privileged youth with a constant nostalgia for bad times when they're through.

I don't know why I always complain about something when what I got to complain about's nothing. No goddamn kid's had a luckier year, and no one wants to be around me now, not then, not ever ever ever ever ever ever ever ever again.