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Decision time: move in with the family, or blow my fucking head off

Dear Murray

Here’s my dilemma: Currently my life is okay. I’m 24, earned a Bachelor’s degree, have a job which I don’t mind too much that pays well and live with my family while I’m paying off my student loans (under 10K). However, as much as I love my parents and my brother, sometimes I would rather put a fork in my eye than be there. Additionally, I’m constantly travelling for socialization, for gigs (I’m a musician) and just to get out. Therefore, I was wondering if it might be more-cost effective and sanity-inducing to just bite the bullet and move out. The problem, though, is that I’m indecisive. If I move out, I might just want to move to a different city, somewhere closer to the ocean. But I’m just beginning to develop interesting relationships with the musicians in this town. Plus, I can’t manage my money to save my life.

What should I do?

Fondly,
is the grass really greener?

Moving back in with the parents. Nothing like it. I did that once. Never fucking again. Nothing like ma treating your ass like you’re 15 all over again. “Murray, you gotta do this and you gotta do that and how come you don’t have a girlfriend? ARE YOU GAY? Listen, I know this nice girl I can fix you up with. She had gonorrhea, but don’t tell her I told you that.” Thanks, ma. Always looking out for me!

Hell, I just spent several days with my family, so this shit is all fresh in my mind. It took everything I’ve got not to strangle the living shit out of every single one of my family members on Christmas Eve.

I’m a firm believer in focusing on what you want and going after it. If you don’t fucking at least try, you’ll have nothing but a bunch of what ifs. I was talking to this dude once in a bar in a small Midwestern town. He was going on and on about how he wanted to be a musician more than anything. “So why don’t you move the fuck out of this little town where you can pursue your dreams?” “naaaaahhh… i like it here.” It dawned on me. People like to talk about all the shit that they wanna do in life, but they’re too fucking petrified to just do it. I quit my job two days later, and I was out of the midwest within 3 weeks.

So, what’s it gonna be? You gonna talk shit or do shit?

Now leave me the fuck alone.

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Dear Murray

Dear Murray a tasty, tasty bitch beloved and feared by hordes of basement-dwelling illiterati and their fierce antagonists, the Grammar Nazis. He single-handedly turned the webcam whorefest of Myspace into a lively commerce of ideas, including whether or not the TUBGIRL photo will ever be topped as a postmodern expression of the inexpressible. According to web historians, he has inspired more photoshop projects and syphilis jokes than Britney Spears (who he has been repeatedly linked romantically to). He is also rumoured to be the father of Anna Nicole Smith's baby, a disciple of Cliff Yablonski, and the second gunman on the grassy knoll. Although he could not be reached for comment, he reportedly resides in or near the tent cities along the LA River Basin, third right after the walrus sunning station.

He has vehemently denied all charges that he is any any way responsible for that rash your wife claims "is from the heat".

His primary function is doling out advice; the inspiration sprang from an endless and eventually dull repetition of fucktards failed to heed his words.

A secondary result is a dysfunctional family "round table" of people who contribute innumerable one-liners and personal experiences, rarely related in any way to the actual question.

It is estimated that tens of thousands of readers have "LOL'd" approximately 5,395,645,694,167,467,105 times, with the toll expected to rise.

He is immune to kryptonite, chlamydia, and brainwashing.

Wikipedia has banned PENCILTITS's entry, debating the relevance of his tasty bitchiness.