Schedules

Schedule, what the fuck? Where did I rub you the wrong way? I got you a classy black leather-bound planner, nailed you to the wall next to my high school diploma, organized you all good and proper, week by week, day-by-day, and programmed you into my Outlook calendar, but still you tease me with momentary cooperation and then go on eluding me like the fucking cure for AIDS. Well guess what? I’ve had enough. I’m not taking any more of your schedulistic shit. No more. From now on it’s pure academic apathy, movies, and MSN, 24/7/365. What’s that? Oh. I suppose you’re right: that wouldn’t be shaking up the current routine, not exactly. In fact, that’s exactly how how things have stood with us for the past few years. But I figured it was time one of us got up and said it, came to terms with the relationshit, you know?