“My nail clippers should be here. Why aren’t they fucking here? I’m just not looking hard enough. I should keep searching longer. I’ll look under this sheet of paper. Not here. Dammit, I’d like to get to bed soon. It’s possible that my roommate was using them and never gave them back. Naw, I’m just being crazy. There’s no need to bother him; but what if he did? It’s obviously not completely out of the realm of possibility that my roommate used my nail clippers. No, they’re definitely on this desk because there’s no other goddamn place where I keep them…but I’m staring at the fucking desk right now and guess what…THEY’RE NOT HERE!!! Ok, fine, while I wasn’t thinking, I put them in the drawer. My mom once found her keys in her refrigerator. Anything’s possible…..Of course they’re not fucking here! Of course, you IDIOT! Fuck it I’m asking my roommate.”

“TOM!”

“YEA?”

“HAVE YOU SEEN MY NAIL CLIPPERS?”

“….NO!”

“FUUUUUCK! HOW THE FUCK DO I KEEP LOSING SHIT! This is unbelievable. I’m 23, and my head is already becoming senile. I should be fucking college bitches right now. I should kill myself. Fuck it, I’m just going to fucking kill my…oh wait…here they are right here…on my desk.”

What you just read was the last 20 minutes of yesterday. That’s 1/72nd of my day, not exactly ideal efficiency. One would suggest to me that I should be more organized, or I should stop drinking so I don’t achieve brain-farts like this, or I should stop masturbating with a belt around my neck. All of these are great pieces of advice (although I’m not sure how the last one applies here), but I probably won’t follow them. Losing things is a tradition passed on from generation to generation, as far back as there have been things to lose; and I’m not about to be the asshole who breaks that. Also, organized people are fags.