It's been a long, difficult road to get to this point. A long road with many twists and turns of regret, potholes of abuse, and speed bumps of shame. An ill-maintained, crumbling road, lined by the weeds of despair, and littered with the soiled diapers of unfulfilled potential. A road where the State Troopers of self-hatred will pull you over and give you a ticket for too much optimism. A road where the hitchhikers of over-indulgence will pull the knife of one more beer on you, sending you swerving off the road into the gulley of “who the fuck's bed am I in” and the roadside ditch of “oh my god is that a rash”.

A road where the only place to satisfy your hunger for approval is the Waffle House of bringer shows and the 12 people in the basement of a bar...bar. A road where the only way to fix the flat tire of depression is with the air pump of Chubby Hubby ice cream, a road where every toll booth has a sign that says "DUES", and there’s one every mile, and the only way to pay is with the EZ Pass of crappy temp and waiter jobs. A road where the roadkill has talent and the hacks zooming past you have noses that are damp and brown. A road where the biker gangs of industry ride big Harleys of ignorance whose engines drown out your thoughts with roars of “talk about your ethnicity”. A road that's all uphill, and the only place to refuel your car of ambition is the gas station of filthy BJs.

This is the road I ride. Destination: beats me.