Okay, I feel like Ray Liotta's character Henry Hill in Goodfellas at the end of the movie when he's cranking out a massive amount of coke baggies and is convinced helicopters are watching him. There's some sort of fucked mania going on right now in my head and since it's like 4:00 in the morning I don't really have anywhere to focus this energy.
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now i can't listen to that song without smelling boiled hotdogs and thinking of burnt up little kids.
i hate boiled hotdogs.
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Zespy's got this amazing spoken word record done by this guy who had his face all burned to hell. He's supposed to be some sort of inspirational speaker, but they put pictures of his accident and recovery all over the goddamn LP jacket.
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