Woohoo for me. I'm also listening to James Franco chat with Howard Stern. Earlier it was David Spade, and before that Chelsea Handler. Gotta love the net...
I would be perfect with her, by the way, except she'd prefer an already made from scratch mayon. I'd prefer her to Demi Moore me and teach me how to thrive, push me, push...
I wouldn't be down with her lack of showering. Even when I'm scroungy I still don't reek. I also like my chicks super picky on cleanliness, although it is hard to find. Most only keep up the charade until a ring is slipped on the finger...
Ehhhhhhhh, we are most often captive without any physical bindings present. How sad...
I like the feel of this hydrocodone quicksand compounded by the ants in the pants itchiness of two pots of stout java brewness. It makes the nicotine go down that much more smoothly...
I'm staying pretty semi spritely, in spite of eating well at times, and it's all good. Whatevs...
I wish I could copy and paste my plan of attack here. All this coffee, and I'm a bit loopy now. Someday we will be able to switch on and off at will, and those slumberful hibernations will not take a moment off the ticker for us. As long as we can curb the reproduction of the unwashed masses, then this would be truly a sweet deal. Childbirth would once again become a special thing, not just a woops moment. Hey let's unload this kid wherever we can until he's old enough to fuck up his own shit.
You suck, world. I will, however, beat you at your own game. I will tie you up, beat the living fuck out of you, and slap you right square on the taint. I despise you.
Would I be like this if I were loaded and famous?
I have grand notions. I wish that I were magically given the chance to shine.
I'm a lazy bastard, and need to be pushed. Where's my Andrew Ridgely?
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