she says, where is this going?

and i don't say anything, 'cause nothing is ever going.

you write character psychology.

true, because nothing i ever do in life is plot driven. i sit and observe. i don't expect great big bumps in the road (despite me craving them), but if they happen, they happen. all i have is my mind and it's with me all the time and it's my friend and my enemy. my rise, my fall and that's all i know, and all i'll ever know. (so suck it, louise)...

but i didn't say that.

i nodded my head, for her, i wrote something horribly unfunny, and that's how I came to write a situational comedy. i sold it for millions, so my road is smoothly paved, smoothly ridden. it's all about the security and the green, you know.

and now, my mind fries a bit more everytime i sit on that lazy boy, and i laugh when they tell me to, i do it all with empty joy, but who cares because I have a women play toy, and she comes with an extra feature! she cooks and cleans and sucks my balls when i need her.