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I can't believe that someone wants my genetic material. It just blows my fucking mind. I'm not even sure of what to say to that.
I've been drinking regularly for probably a week and a half.
It must be around fifty, fifty-five degrees out tonight. Just a slight chill. There's also that hint of fall in the air. It's just a subtle whiff but it's there none-the-less.
I fucking hate that.
I hate fall with a pashion that defies words. I always think back to starting a new year of miserable school being around people I didn't want to doing shit I was much too good for. A year of dealing with other kids struggling through the mundane bordem that was only to be outdone by the instructors' lack of enthusiasm.
Contrary to the way it may seem I'm actually a pretty smart guy.. or at least I used to be. One of the things that scares me the most is thinking that one iota of my intelligence is less than what it used to be because, all throughout school, my intelligence is what defined me and set me apart from the rest of the herd. "That smart guy." I'm an attention whore to some degree so it scares me more than I think it normally would.
A lot of people, I think at least, make the error of mistaking silence for stupidity. Sometimes I think my dearest friends do it to me. It's not that I don't understand, you see, it's that I understood after the first two syllables were out. I don't have anything to say. I've already thought this one through before. But you see, I know that I'm a nice guy (as much as I hate to admit it as being a nice guy has gotten me exactly 4 no-where jobs, two girls that hate me, a few of cheap thrills, and one blow job) so I let people continue on explaining and explaining... ad infinitum.
In any event, that smell reminds me of the begining of several years of public education... Drinking shitty wine on the hood of a Dodge Diplomat as a failing community college student... the end of summer fun...
I guess it just seems like the end of things and I hate fucking chaos and change. I like order. Blissful, blissful, steadfast, order.
I'm a pessemist. I've known this forever. I knew it before I knew the word.
I fucking loathe being taken for a fool.
I've discovered that, despite my mental illness, I am a very protective man. People say things about me and I say, "Yeah, whatever. This person is a stupid douche-bag." But, I've noticed when people talk about those I like, even the one's I don't like too much, you proclaim yourself enemy. Say what you want about me, but you start talking about that tool, M***, or someone of that nature, and I'll hit you in the face and fuck your mom.
Maybe I feel that, "Hey, I'm the only one that say this douche is a douche." sort of thing. I don't know.
Just an observation.
No one I know of has saved my soul. Or even made a hearty attempt. I could be wrong.
And for you newbies out there, a "nod" is a nice high brought on by narcotics(opiates). The kind where you sort of drool on yourself a little, space out, and your head nods forward(or back). Hence the term.
H to the Izz O.
Hahahahahahaha
So, here I sit nodding pleasantly, a hefty $120 overdrawn at the bank. When I think about all the money I let people borrow, free services rendered, free shit given, free lunches, shit owed me... I feel like a total tool. I don't think that will be happening any longer. It's sad when my ex and her boyfriend prove that they're relatively good people by helping out with free money.
Reevaluation of relationships is something I've done a lot lately. I think I'm cutting it all down to brass tacks. Four people. Eight if you count family.
Cisco Networking Degree. Microsoft Certified Network Administrator. Information Technology A+ certificate. Get down and suck my dick. I'll own you in a couple of years.
I'm thinking I'll grow some poppies.
Don't like it? Go learn html your fucking self. Or use a fucking gay site builder so you can look like everone else out there. Don't shit where I eat.
"I got my limits too..."
- Bobby Baccalieri from The Sopranos
"I'm all right. I'm just gagging on all the all right."
- Marcy Playground, "Opium" from the self-titled albumn
Fuck you and the horse you fucked in on.
Another fucking semester. Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck Fuck FUCK.
My campaign slogan? "Drama free; The way to be."
Or
"Fuck dramatics."
Second one definitely has more of a ring to it.
Who needs women. I got a cool hair cut.
And fuck you, I will have my sixty-fucking-five degrees at all times, clean, sterile, abode complete with fridge-of-carefully-arranged-beer and assorted other goodies.