Oh dear Jesus. I shouldn’t live here. I shouldn’t live in a place where, just because i ‘know’ people, i get away with things.
I didn’t ‘drive’.
But THEY WERE READY TO ARREST MY ASS IF NEED BE.
Like, twice.
ALL IM SAYING IS, THERE IS SOME POTATO SALAD ABOUT TO GET RIPE UP IN THERE.
and ‘there’ is my car.
This is, like, a HUGE deal.
I usually burrow in a crevice of a large mountain of (clean but not folded) clothes.
WHO KNEW SO MANY BOBBY PINS EVEN EXISTED?
They were all on my floor.
When I start to inadvertently quote High Fidelity, it’s time for me to shut the fuck up, smoke a bowl and go to bed.
Tomorrow is really not the best day for the dude I use to fuck around with to come to town. Or the best day in the worst way, I don’t know.
But regardless I’m sure I’ll end up feeling guilty about something.
and/or he’s a giant pile of chicken shit.
I’d love to say ‘it’s time to move on’ again but that just worked so fucking well the last twelve times.
Poop.
Where is my bourbon.
I very much enjoy having this smaller, more ‘private’ tumblr. I’m working through a bunch of fun shit right now and the other blog doesn’t seem like the right place to air it out. Frankly, the audience (not just followers but pageviews outside of tumblr) for my other one is intimidating. My parents also know about it (Dad because I told him/he gets it and Mom because… good god I don’t know, she still hasn’t told me that she found it but she has fucking told everyone else that she thinks I’m ruining my life with the internet) but there’s just some shit that I don’t want to worry about who is reading it. And to write about it with any semblance of truth, I don’t want to feel inhibited or nervous or self-conscious or any of that jazz.
You guys… you guys I like.
So this one will probably be for the more personal, the more obnoxious.
Lucky fucks.
