I've been working more than sixty hours a week since the beginning of July, between two difficult jobs that I don't care too much for. Monday through Friday I work at Marcello's bakery, lifting fifty pound sacks of flour, kneading and rolling dough for hours with coworkers that don't speak english, working near ovens that push the temperature of the room to over 100 degrees when opened. On Saturday and Sunday, I work at the White Hen store that I've worked at since March, with the same wages, same responsibilities.

Why am I working myself to death? The obvious answer is money. My bank account has passed a thousand dollars in a month and grows every week. But the little nest egg I'm hatching is going to be [oooh! the secret machines are on tv!] sorry what was I saying? Oh right, I have a scooter.

Click here. Isn't she beautiful? She's my Stella, and she's the most important woman in my life. Revving her up, feeling her throb between my legs, then my eyes tearing up from the wind hitting my face at 65 miles an hour just seconds later is an exhilaration that I never felt before in my life, nor one that will ever be easily topped or matched.

Can you picture the look of a person on Lake Shore Drive as he's being passed by a vehicle that's one tenth it's weight? Ha!

It costs three dollars and fifty cents to fill up the gas tank and it lasts me between four and six days. Insurance is still something I'm working on, but it'll be settled.

I love Stella, but I'm working way too hard for my own good. I almost fainted on Friday in my garage because I was sapped of my energy. I haven't had a day off since the first week of July. Other than a certain ragamuffin that I try to see regularly I don't see much of anyone. I've been out of school since January, and the absence of a social structure is quite alienating, lending itself quite well to bouts of loneliness and depression. Excepting that whole responsibility thing and seeing people that didn't think too highly of me, I liked school, after school anyway. I was always able to find someone to sit next to and have a conversation with, like Lorena or Abby or Franklin or Jen or Russ or Karl or Vivian or Brandon or Magda or anyone. I used to see peers on a daily basis, now I'm glad if I see someone once a week for a few hours between jobs.

My oh my do I miss warm bodies to talk with. Anyone want to hang out? I'm available after midnight everyday (which is when I usually get off of either work) and I can get to your place within minutes thanks to Stella. I also have lots of money to throw around, maybe that can be an added incentive?

I sound like a whore.

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