I’m trying to think of the last time I shed a tear over something in REAL life. Either way you look at it…troubling.
I just watched a great movie. In America. Really good. Though, talk about botched marketing. It’s some asshole’s fault it took me this long to give it a good look. Anyway, take a guess at what inspired the initial link in my chain of thought?
I’ve been in all weekend. Flaked 2 parties cause I’m buried in headwork. Buried. Of course, this headwork is real work…that will hopefully lead to real work. Got me???
In case you haven’t noticed, I’m not always super direct. Ask my ex’s.
They’ve been fixing my apartment complex for 3 months. No, not my ex’s. The Bandaras family of handy men. When they finally leave, I’ll take my stab at figuring out what the fuck they did.
They DO leave El Pollo Loco all over my courtyard. I will CERTAINLY give them that.
I’m fucking salty!
On Saturday, they re-paved the steps leading up to my apartment. Any NORMAL human being would have been confined.
Not this nimble minx…
Hold on…Fuck me, that little slide hits me every time. #6 on August and Everything After. For cliff noters, pick it up at 2:35. Every time and I don’t know why. That whole album is orgasm.
But anyway…
Upon lurching my way across railing in nimble feats of strength and grace, I tore a hole in the ass of my #1 pair of pants. The kind of hole that lures in a sweet whisper to viewing audiences…
Watch closely…magic waits behind but one curtain. That is…if I’m even wearing a buffer…which is rare these days.
I just killed my candle. The wax reservoir escaped. Fucking idiot.
My face is heavy. This is what it feels like to throw your head in a frying pan…on high for 3 days…with a splash of De Cecco.
Crossies. Juices will fly before this chap leaves for NYC. Daddy is about to throw me into the lake…see if I sink or swim.
Let’s get it over with, fuckbags. I’ve got one hell of a crawl stroke.
