Why did the bird cross the road? To get to Plan B

I have to make little a choice. I have to decide what to do with my life. I've been reserving the right to be young and stupid until now and whilst I've apparently achieved stupidity in wonderful abundance, I don't feel I've come out with any sort of 'sober career direction' as it were.

I do understand that things end- and no matter how much we try, even the most intelligent, energetic and alluring of us end up playing obsessive amounts of table tennis with beer-bought mates or sitting in front of endless re-runs, waiting for professional illumination. But what happens when we fall apart and its not a matter of the heart, something we're now trained and practised in. What if your breaking up with your boss?

You spend half your life, ok well maybe a third at work (totally made up statistic). And when you no longer feel the powerpoint love there is Plan B. Of course! Emergence of the first problem...the existence of Plan B implies that there was a Plan A. I must have missed the 101 Life Planning class cause I've flipped through my notes, and I've got nothing.

I've shamelessly fallen out of love with my ever-loving and faultless nurturing global investment bank and now I'm on the verge of being out, lost in the array of the real world again (insert sarcasm here). Who stops loving the American All Star for no reason? Some would kill to date the quarter back, and I'm flipping him the bird?

It's that moment before every pending break up when you have to pick a team, decide yes or no and you just wish someone would tell you its going to be alright then hand you a beer, a remote control, a spoon for the ice cream and a Plan B. Then again, maybe I'm just exercising my youthful stupidity...once again...