I fo realz need a maid/helper/chauffeur. My productivity and social life have been takin hits like a crackhead boxer that can't fight. It's been affecting my dreams too; last night was fucked. My mood is suffering, but it seems I'm still doing pretty well at maintaining an acceptable demeanor.

I've reinstalled Ben's copy of Journey to the Wild ( Read more... )

Not at the Soul Kitchen, anyway. Statistically, if 8 girls are willing to wear white shirts and pour water on themselves in front of a crowd, at least one of them should be willing to lift and/or remove said shirt. Lame ( Read more... )

Oh man, it had been too long since I had salmon patties.
Jeff is a master patty flipper.
What's going on this week, and what am I invited to?

so give her a damn hug ( Read more... )

I wish they'd have sex for it ( Read more... )

I can barely breathe. Who put these needles in my lungs, and why is my skin trying to crawl away? I ran out of pills and elixirs; more have arrived, but I don't know if they made it in time. I can't go to the hospital for too many reasons. The pain, the labor, they make it hard to have a normal, non-distorted face, and only being in a room of guys ( Read more... )

I may be getting sick. Several of my friends have had varying degrees of the shit, and with our habits and vices, my immune system has surely suffered setbacks on the cell sized battlefield. Times of sickness seem to promote thoughts of reflection, and I already feel the rumble of a storm swirling together in the grey matter. I haven't had the ( Read more... )

When I woke up this morning, it was too early. Wilson was dreaming on my legs. I was dehydrated, fuzzy; my bed felt different, like it wasn't there for me, but that it just happened to be where I was sleeping. I went back to sleep ( Read more... )

Friday night was Exploding Corny Drunk Hen. Jeff has been my cooking mate as of late, and he told me he wanted to cook with some liquor, so I says "Cool, I got some Dickel (whiskey) and a couple cornish hens we can fuck with." So we did. The concoction consisted of about five shots of whiskey, half a shot of vanilla extract, a little hot sauce, ( Read more... )

I've been thinking of dreading my hair. Opinions?
Anyone care to help?