I'd like to be a big fat, fucking fly

Today was so odd. I felt like a really small bug being crushed by corporate America. Except Joe and Krissy and Allie and I were all bugs huddled together, about to be obliterated by the ugly, expensive sneaker of capitalism. Actually, today wasn't bad. It was nice to leave home. But I really do like my house. If my house could be transplanted to East Village or something, that would be fine with me. I always like coming back home. I just don't really like stepping outside my house, or having hordes of smelly junior high kids on my lawn because the sidewalk was too difficult to walk on. I know, I could be living in Zambia, having to contract AIDS just so I could feed the kids who I had already been forced to have, I could be a burn victim, I could be one of those Masai boys who has to get circumcised much too late in life, I could be a certain really fullofit drama cuntbag . (Sorry, I know if you're reading this, you are probably really sick of my ranting about her. I am not going to type her name, in order to avoid having my entrails ripped out if she ever Googles herself.) I could be Alan Keyes' lesbian daughter. Instead, I have food to eat, loving parents, no horrifying initiation ceremony to go through (does AP Calc count?) I'm not even really that ugly. So why do I always feel so fucking hopeless?
Oh, how I loathe the corporations.