Was just about to nap on downstairs couch. Dog took a shit, or threw up or something, on the carpet.
Guess I’m not napping here.
Why did all of my friends leave? Now I don’t have an excuse to drink.
I want a drink.
nah, in all seriousness, i’m most attracted to brunettes
One that can read. And dance well. And likes drinking. And doesn’t hate dairy, or meat.
Maybe she could laugh at my awful jokes, from time to time.
haha well, usually, I’d say it is me, but I’m not allowed near high schools…jk
I’ve thrown away all the nice things that have ever happened to me.
I think I do it, because, subconsciously, I hate myself.
Time for dinner. Gonna’ fry up some almost-baby birds.
I love eating animals.
I killed a cow today. Because I wanted to.
I’m relatively positive, it’s “possible” for you to name your child, whatever the hell you want.
technically, no, you can’t give the next hurricane the name, Shaniqua. For two reasons. Firstly, the hurricane naming process goes in alphabetical order, meaning the next one will start with a J. Secondly they switch gender with each storm, meaning the next one—even if we could jump all the way to “S”—will be male. =/
I feel like if we give the hurricanes ghetto names people will be more inclined to get away from them. Hurricane Irene sounds friendly. Hurricane Dijonae sounds like it could rip your weave out if you look at it the wrong way.
storm starting to pick up..what’s any sane person’s first thought? Time for a run!
constantly, in fact, i asked myself this one
this is going to be the title of my first novel
lololol I had a dream last night that we both developed coke addictions
- Kelly: The whole world is spinning
- Me: Yeah, sometimes it does that, bud.
No, i don’t have a muse, and I don’t have a girl that inspires me. Inspiration comes from within, and unfortunately I lack severely in that department.
Last night was better.
I can guarantee tonight won’t compare. I almost don’t want to go out.
Oh well, I’ll go out. (I can’t go on, I’ll go on).
and we don’t care
about anything” —Charles Bukowski