Well don't you worry, don't worry, no don't worry mama..

I've decided to have a quarter-life crisis. I'm happy living my life according to the infinite wisdom of The Steve Miller Band in the inspiational lyrics from the band's masterpeice, The Joker. But blame it on the whisky, blame it on the beer, blame it on reading Generation me, blame it on the pot, blame it on fuckin a lot. Generation Me keeps talking about the quarter-life crisis. And it got me thinking. My job? Sucks. Bank account? Sucks. Car? Sucks. Apartment? Sucks. Education? Sucks. Love life? Sucks. (Lovin' life? Awesome!) And I ain't gettin any younger... But I don't care. I'm happy living my life as a joker and midnight toker. I'm happy gettin my lovin on the run. Some people call me a space cowboy. Some call me the ganster of love. Some people call me Ronnie (eee-eee)! I'm a picker, I'm a grinner, I'm a lover, and I'm a sinner. I do play my music in the sun! But why don't I care? Shouldn't I care? Is there something wrong with me, that I can be happy with this, lot in life. I can't even fit in with Generation Me. Which lead to the quarter-life crisis. Maybe I do care. And maybe I am unhappy. I ain't gettin any younger. So I signed up with match.com