I Worry

I’ll wake up to a homeless guy peeing on me in a ditch somewhere.

I’ll end up dating someone who plays with his nipples in a restaurant while talking about how soup isn’t a meal, it’s a snack.

I’ll have another sexy dream about David Suzuki.

I’ll strive for greatness, and end up with a wrinkly, old potato.

I’ll get in trouble with the mob and have to wear Kevlar panties.