Where is my mind?

I prefer people that can form coherent sentences and thoughts. Otherwise, I find them downright annoying. I end up wasting precious moments of my life trying to understand their "so simple, it's complex" language of random letters and numbers jumbled and mashed together without any signs of punctuation.

Fraiser is so fucking pretentious. It's aimed at the little people of the world and for the life of me I can't understand why they enjoy it so much. Why would the same crowd that loved Cheers for so many years like the obnoxious intellect of New York therapists and wine connoisseurs? It doesn't make sense to me and yet I find myself laughing right along with those damn laugh tracks.

I got a raise today and I feel as though I've sold my soul to the devil to get it. I swear that's his disguise for the time he spends on Earth. No one would expect the devil to have children and live a meager life of Burger King management, but I'm on to him. All of those people out there convinced that the CEO of your everyday toxic waste producer is the devil are so very wrong. Dare I say dead wrong? I dare. They are dead wrong.

Joey's book is fantastic. It is everything I was expecting except a hundred times better. He is the owner of such a dirty mind. Every story I've read so far has had some mention of sex, if it isn't entirely about it mind you. I love each and every one of them though. Does that mean I have a dirty mind also? So be it then. I think I may prefer short story collections over novellas or novels, what have you. I never get bored, not that I would with Joey's writing anyways. My attempt at reading Chrome Yellow was a failure. I really thought I would get somewhere with it too. I can't understand why I lose focus at reading a book so fast.