I'm sick of tom foolery and back stabbery. I'm sick of the trenches ( Read more... )

Everything hurts. Especially the throat ( Read more... )

Last night I wore a fancy dress. My nails were painted red and I drank pure whiskey from a plastic cup ( Read more... )

Fashion and Theivery. Always drinking. Always stealing.
My tonsils are spending their last few days in my throat drenched in alcohol.
These are the days of our lives
and we are wasting them away.

Life is shaped like Portugal. A big turd.
I want to go to the hospital, just because I am confused.
I don't even know where I am right now.
This city is an elephant graveyard. I want a fat lip and a cold drink.
Call it a night.

Today Mayleea and I ventured to the top of the rainforest. We zipped down 600 foot high zip cords through the tree´s. Tucans and sloths beware. We traveled at speeds of 40 miles per hour and got to wear cool helmets and gloves ( Read more... )

We are in Costa Rica, but it was no easy task. May puked up here breakfast burrito on the plane and the altitude was way too high for my comfort. We made perverted mad libs and listened to Charlie and the Chocolate Factory on a stolen $50 book on tape. The DaVinci Code was too serious, so we were convinced it was a comedy ( Read more... )

I found an entire case of 211 on the ground the other day. The can's were dented as though they had survived a brutal attack. Dropped and strewn across the sidewalk ( Read more... )

No one let's me listen to Kelly Clarkson. So what.
I'm drinking. Three different liquors in one tall glass.
I call it suicide. You can call it carnage.
And then I choked her.
Can we please listen to Kelly Clarkson?

I am a third grader at heart ( Read more... )