oh, aron - how you used to torture me for countless hours at a time, sitting in your hamock in newport beach on 46th street playing this song over and over again on your guitar.

the good old days. like when you came over and thrust a plastic bag into my hands, telling me, “whatever you do, don’t drop it” and turned and walked away. the bag contained a small japanese fighting fish (named fred that swam on my desk for a year and a half).

that was nearly as impressive as when you delivered a cage on valentine’s day harbouring a fuzzy baby chinchilla that you “found on the freeway, so do you want it?”

how about on my 21st when you informed me that we would be honoring the day of my birth by taking me on a tour of your work environment (how could i not possibly be thrilled at this prospect?). so i should wear comfortable shoes. but somehow we ended up at disneyland instead.

who said that romance was dead? obviously they didn’t clean out that chinchilla cage and discover perhaps it was just hidden beneath a little bit of shit…

ball and chain by social distortion
Well it’s been ten years and a thousand tears and look at the mess I’m in
A broken nose and a broken heart, an empty bottle of gin
Well I sit and I pray in my broken down Chevrolet
While I’m singing to myself there’s got to be another way

Take away, take away, take away this ball and chain
I’m lonely and I’m tired and I can’t take any more pain
Take away, take away, never to return again
Take away, take away, take away this ball and chain

Well I’ve searched and I’ve searched to find the perfect life
A brand new car and a brand new suit — I even got me a little wife
But wherever I have gone I was sure to find myself there
You can run all your life but not go anywhere

Well I’ll pass the bar on the way to my dingy hotel room
I spent all money been drinking since half past noon
I’ll wake there in the morning or maybe in the county jail
Times are hard getting harder; I’m born to lose and destined to fail