Shit. Shit, shit, shit, shit. I'm sick. Shit. It feels like a baby's dick is up my nose. I can't eat breakfast. I have to call it breafixed. I take old glass bottles to the redycling denter. I been blessed with the blood of a norse god yet once a year I'm cursed with an illness. I'll have to use the remedies of the gods (orange juice and Day-Quil (
(
Read more... )