Kevin Lomax, a computer programmer from California, takes time off several times a year to meditate on his life's progress.
Today, he solemnly announces that he has yet again "dropped the ball."

"I figured it had been a while since the last one," reminisces Lomax. "I was really anxious to see how I had improved.
Apparently, I haven't learned a damned thing. Go me."

High on his running list of goals was getting his finances in order, which at this point has "an icicle's chance in Satan's
bunghole."

"Yeah, the debt's as bad as ever," he recounts. "I had this payment scheme worked out and everything, but it looks like I
forgot to write 'willpower' in there. Originally, I wanted to have the cards paid off by November. I might as well have asked
myself for another two inches while I was at it."

He admits that his long-time relationship with friend Sarah Singer has also faltered since the last inspection.

"Yeah, Sarah's a great girl--a really awesome person, but lately something is getting in the way of me being a true friend:
namely, those 33D pontoons," he regrets. "We were hanging out at her place, the typical harmless thing, where out of the
blue my mind started to wander and I began having 'those kinds of thoughts.' I was a little buzzed, I know I made some
comments...alcohol is truth serum, you know. After all these years of non-threatening platonic stability, I'm sure she's
weirded out and never wants to talk to me again. Once more, I have screwed the pooch."

His physical fitness also disappoints.

"I had a decent physique all up until last year, when they put that pastry joint up down the block. Some of the girls that
used to flirt with me are giving me strange looks now. It's killing my sex-life. I've got this gut; too much meat on my bones,
and not enough meat on my bone, know what I mean?"

His attempts to patch things up with his father leave a lot to be desired.

"I'd like to straighten up with my old man," Kevin explains, "but there's only so much you can do when you're the unplanned
spawn of an ignorant megalomaniac and his prescription-addicted, cheating wife. But I'm sure telling him just that,
verbatim, didn't exactly help."

Despite all the setbacks, he retains a commendable degree of positivity.

"I can't sweat all these hardships too much. Things usually work out as long as you can stay calm and maybe call on a
friend or two," he says. "Take tonight, for instance. Me and some of the boys are going out on the town. No baggage, no
bullshit. We're just gonna go out there, get lit, and rip it up like the old days. That'll help blow off most of this stress I've
got, and tomorrow--maybe the day after--I'll be able to tackle it all, refreshed and with a new perspective."

He then looked around, seemingly confused.

"Now where's my wallet?" he asks. "Oh, don't tell me, do NOT tell me that I left it at that strip-joint Friday night."

Lomax then kicked over one of his entertainment center speakers in a fit.

"Fuck me runnin.' I think I locked my keys in the car, too."