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It's times like this that I wonder why I even fucking try.
You can tell my dog is female by the way it tests me to see how much I take until I snap and start yelling. That's a pretty good indicator. That, and the ass sniffing thing.
Chris Rock was right. You haven't been in love until you've thought about killing them and the only thing stopping you is an episode of CSI and the fear of prison.
Always ask: What would David D do?
I'm so cold and I hate it.
I will spend the rest of my short-ass life destroying you and your family a piece at a time.
Me and my empty promises.
I guess I've spent a lot of my time watching good things die. People, relationships, countries... You could see how that's kind of a bummer.
I stay hungry, my muscles hurt, I get dizzy a lot, I'm constantly tired..
Poor me, right?
"Thank you for your shallow judgment."
You tell me what I'm supposed to think. That should be entertaining.
At least working is making me a lot more physically strong. That's fun.
I've been listening to a lot of ICP lately. I guess it just appeals to my angrier, murderous, funny, stupid, yet delightly witty and unrefined side.
I don't feel pain like normal people do. It's kind of like being a really lame superman and almost everything aside from one or two substances are kryptonite.
Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck. Fuck you. Fuck this. Fuck off. Fuck.
Now, where was I?
For the record, it doesn't really bother a junkie to call them a junkie.
People always talk about all the pretty colors during fall. I don't see it. To me, it's like that Mamma's and Pappa's song, 'all the leaves are brown and the sky is gray' to me.
Maybe I'm color blind.
Or, perhaps, just a terminal pessemist.
"Prozac Nation"
Jesus of the Nazarene, how can people make so much trouble for themselves. Haven't you people seen Prozac Nation? Anything familiar? Fuck. Bloody Hell, folks, there are real problems in the world. People die, people cheat, people are broke, shit happens, and the great-fucked-up-earth merry-go-round continues on and, oh, guess what? Making it harder on yourself only fucks you. Oh, and it pisses me off. Stop bitching. Please.
I can certainly give advice... Just wish I could take it.
I actually used, 'Bloody Hell'.
Being called by your last name all the time is kind of different at first but soon becomes a sign of good friendship and camradery.
Although, it can be a bit strange during sex.
In the immortal words of Spike, "Sod off."
Fuck you. Fuck you with a barber pole you worthless fuck. Fuck you twice.
I'll beat your ass and slap your mom for having you.
This site is officially, and for the record, not tard friendly. Just a warning.
See, that's the fun part. It looks however I want and I say whatever I want and you just have to sit there, sucking my balls. Ha!
Because I'm arrogant, an asshole, and smarter. That's why.
I wonder who will catch the humor and who will get all huffy and call me an asshole. Only time will tell.
"Like a Rock(Exactly Like One)"
So, in fine style, the dead of winter approaches and the heat in my vehicle promptly dies. It has been slammed into a fence post, done two(2) 360's ending in a front end smash, has been completely out of oil(ie. rusty dipstick) at least once, one fifteen(15) foot drag along a rock face on the Western Kentucky Parkway, two accidents, being rammed by a larger vehicle while it was parked, and being rammed rull speed by a deer just recently. 202,000 miles. The back wiper works and not the heat or front wipers. The cruise control works but not the turn signals or power window(yes, only one is power, passengers crank).
Someone please explain this to me.
"Root Beer"
Sam's Choice indeed. Do you think if Sam had a choice he'd be drinking this shit? No, he had money. I don't. So my choices are rather limited. When I stare at that lone quarter(or two dimes and five pennies that nothing short of oral sex will get a nickle traded for) on break I know exactly what my fucking choice is. Have a Sam's Orangette, a Sam's Grapette, a Sam's Root Beer, or not have a fucking drink at all. Those are my choices.
The funniest, saddest, and most angering thing ever is this korean prick that talks with a real bad southern accent and is racist against black people. To top it all off he's rude to my friends and my girl at a local restaraunt. Today he's tearing up shit where I work, in my department(s). I know I'm going to beat this guy until anything he says is muffled by his own ass. I just know it. It has to be done. Fuck jail, fuck losing my job, I just want to hurt him with my hands and feet. The little anger string snapped in my head. Today, not even the thought of losing my job was going to stop me. The kid that is basically my nephew and bad timing is the only reason this guy still has teeth to whistle dixie through. Still, his existance alone is entertaining.
I still feel bad that I didn't at least threaten to flatten his fucking nose out accross his face.
I really, really, hate this prick. And I will get him.
It'll just have to be when a blonde, blue-eyed five year old isn't around hugging me showing off his tooth fairy purchases.
It's almost the anniversary of Jesus Christ's birthday so, obviously, it must be celebrated in the jaded tradition outdoing one another. Joe Bob got Billy the bigger toy. Cletus has the most lights on his trailer.
I defect.
I am going to do what I've done the last two years. I'm going to maybe get a little something for the young people. And I'm going to wish Jesus a happy birthday. Go back to my older submissions, you'll see it.
Bloody Hell, is it ever cold.
