Dear Journal,
It's Tuesday night, and I'm sitting here with my bottle of Chardonnay, relaying the events of my day. I went to the video store earlier to rent three adult videos. I had read some interesting reviews online and always like to know what I'm renting before I go in there. Especially when it comes to adult videos
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I am so lonely. I'm really pathetic, and I really really really need a date.
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Oh F*ck ref! Please!
There's no place for cursing in a civilized society alright. I'm telling you this because I'm a coach and your just a kid. You can't go around cursing now. It'll end up ruining you when you're older.
What the F*ck was that ref?! Are you taking a Sh*t is that what you're doing or are you making a call?! Cause if you make a call, you make a call, but don't take a sh*t out there! That's taking a sh*t! That's taking a sh*t in my f*cking mouth and I don't wanna eat your sh*t you f*cked up sh*t head.
Unless Brendon, unless you know how to do it right.
It's called creative use of words. It's like poetry; like Robert Frost stopping by the woods on a snowy f*cking evening that kinda sh*t. But it's
my poetry, it's the everyday man's poetry, alright. Cause we can't find good metaphors like the woods, or the snow, or the horse or that kinda stuff.
Oh f*cking f*ck me ref!
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