Sometimes, late at night, I would stare up at the dark sky tinged by the city's lights. To be more precise, I would be looking at the stars.

I would then think to myself: god damn it, I need to find a job for my dog.

I have noticed that I have become increasingly anti-social over the past year. I noticed that I couldn't even have a casual conversation with my friends anymore. Whether through acts of self or my surroundings, either way, if this keeps up, I'm going to end up living in a box with nothing but a kindle and podcasts to entertain me ( Read more... )

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Hey, Banks, stop fucking collapsing and imploding and make me feel fucking depressed. God fucking damn it, you are the final arbitrator of money, I don't even know what arbitration means, but I'm pretty sure it has to do with a pound of cocaine and your giant ridiculous steel spined megalo-penises penetrating the fed and my tax dollars ( Read more... )

...for which I am very sorry, but it does explain why your mustang was repossessed. Also, this is the 21st century, stop riding your horse to work, I'm sick of being relegated to smoke right behind a horse's ass. It's not a fetish, it's a municipal doctrine ( Read more... )

If I let go of every single worldly possession I have ever owned, would I feel free, or would I look back, and regret my loss ( Read more... )

Conflicted as I am about delving into another series of intrigues, terror plots, and a heinously massive displays of back stabbing and double crosses, I couldn't help but start reading Season 2 of Bloody Monday. Once again, this is the closest replication to 24 that I have ever read, but then again, I don't read much ( Read more... )

I can honestly say that, despite sudden mood swings, irrepressible angers, muddled thought patterns, or other indecipherable acts, that I have never taken a life of another human being, nor have I taken my own.

That's not a bad way to live.

Large walking balls of steak, on the other hand, I'm very guilty of.

Once again, not a bad way to live.

... With a refreshing beverage of Hardcore HistoryBack again to pollute your brain for a bit, my cranial slush fund has run dry and I couldn't think of anything pertinent to write, which doesn't mean that I have nothing to use to make you cry, it'll just be the sort of tears that only make you feel unaccomplished ( Read more... )

Received from an email from a friend, it's fucking brilliant ( Read more... )