living the dream

So I was at work for approximately twenty minutes this afternoon when one of the kids called me into the bathroom and informed me that his penis was bleeding. Apparently beating your dick like it owes you money isn’t the best idea after all. Well the evening progresses, as it tends to do… and after a few typical racial slurs and half a dozen “fucking skank” comments, I found myself outside of the QR. (For those of you who aren’t familiar with treatment facilities the QR can be compared to the “padded room” in a psych ward) Well I suppose it isn’t enough entertainment to be locked a 5x7 linoleum room, but it sure is a hoot to take defecate and smear it all over the walls, window and ceiling. Which brings me to the question at hand… How did I get to this point in my life? I think it’s a pretty ligament question. I mean, I went to college, I got the degree… but somehow, nowhere in my five year plan did I intend on scraping shit off of walls.