well fucking well, I think my friends are finally starting to realize why they subconsciously hate me.
I'd be willing to say, "It's the whiskey, not me!" but the whiskey simply pushes inhibitions out of the way and pulls my fuckhead self from the cove.
Is it cool that I spit on one "look-a-like Jerry fucking Garcia" econoline? I thought hippies were peaceful creatures, until this old fuck leaned his long, curly white hair from the window, exclaiming, "Get in your fucking car so I can reverse!" This just in, pal...econolines are gay, Jerry's dead (no pun intended), tye-dye shirts no longer make the grade, and cocaine isn't intended to make you fat. So whatever. I spit on his windshield as he spit "fuck, fuck, fuck" into the night air. NewBomb wanted to punch my face in, being the disrespectful prick I was.
Is it cool upon entering NewBomb's adobe, I jumped into the bed with a Jew and Jap pre coitus? They were naked, so I was trying to finger Johnny D's ass through the comforter.
No avail. No dice.
After said intrusion, Johnny threw a submarine sandwich at my left shoulder, resulting in a myriad of cucumbers, avocodo, and mayonaise splattered against the wall. Due to me being the catalyst of this situation, I was forced to wash the walls while my friends taunted me with their whiskey faces and tired teeth. I had no idea Johnny would be so upset! Pre sandwich issue, he had smiled for the camera, as I obstructed his Asian friend's view. Who would have figured.
.
So in all actuality, I had burned Johnny's smitten libido, while destroying my friends house.
Speaking of burning and destroying, I furiously began eating a plethora of molasis cookies...in fact the entire package. My jaw began to hurt from the tough texture, so I figured I'd loosen things up by placing them in the microwave for thirty-seconds. Thirty-seconds later, my cookie became a ball of fire, resulting in NewBomb extinguishing the flames with his baking powder. No pictures were taken during this cavalcade of chaos, but I do have a picture of my friend Sara ratting me out to my girlfriend who is currently stuck in South Beach.
Fucking gay.
So here I am...safely home in my fire-free apartment, awaiting work at five. NewBomb just came over and we went to an art fair down the street, exhibiting a homeless man trying to sell kettle corn he undoubtedly fired up in his stolen barrel. NewBomb kept telling me he hated me for bringing Sara into his life. I won free drinks last night because he was too pussy to kiss her.
So in all actuality, now that I think about it, NewBomb's inability to own up to his kissing duties resulted in the poison exhibited by your fellow narrator, me. I got drunk because NewBomb sucks at life, spawning: ruined sex for a Jew/Jap, starting a kitchen fire, spitting on a Garcia look-a-like, and consuming 4000 calories in the span of six minutes.
Responsibility ain't no friend of mine.
I'd be willing to say, "It's the whiskey, not me!" but the whiskey simply pushes inhibitions out of the way and pulls my fuckhead self from the cove.
Is it cool that I spit on one "look-a-like Jerry fucking Garcia" econoline? I thought hippies were peaceful creatures, until this old fuck leaned his long, curly white hair from the window, exclaiming, "Get in your fucking car so I can reverse!" This just in, pal...econolines are gay, Jerry's dead (no pun intended), tye-dye shirts no longer make the grade, and cocaine isn't intended to make you fat. So whatever. I spit on his windshield as he spit "fuck, fuck, fuck" into the night air. NewBomb wanted to punch my face in, being the disrespectful prick I was.
Is it cool upon entering NewBomb's adobe, I jumped into the bed with a Jew and Jap pre coitus? They were naked, so I was trying to finger Johnny D's ass through the comforter.
No avail. No dice.
After said intrusion, Johnny threw a submarine sandwich at my left shoulder, resulting in a myriad of cucumbers, avocodo, and mayonaise splattered against the wall. Due to me being the catalyst of this situation, I was forced to wash the walls while my friends taunted me with their whiskey faces and tired teeth. I had no idea Johnny would be so upset! Pre sandwich issue, he had smiled for the camera, as I obstructed his Asian friend's view. Who would have figured.
.
So in all actuality, I had burned Johnny's smitten libido, while destroying my friends house.
Speaking of burning and destroying, I furiously began eating a plethora of molasis cookies...in fact the entire package. My jaw began to hurt from the tough texture, so I figured I'd loosen things up by placing them in the microwave for thirty-seconds. Thirty-seconds later, my cookie became a ball of fire, resulting in NewBomb extinguishing the flames with his baking powder. No pictures were taken during this cavalcade of chaos, but I do have a picture of my friend Sara ratting me out to my girlfriend who is currently stuck in South Beach.
Fucking gay.
So here I am...safely home in my fire-free apartment, awaiting work at five. NewBomb just came over and we went to an art fair down the street, exhibiting a homeless man trying to sell kettle corn he undoubtedly fired up in his stolen barrel. NewBomb kept telling me he hated me for bringing Sara into his life. I won free drinks last night because he was too pussy to kiss her.
So in all actuality, now that I think about it, NewBomb's inability to own up to his kissing duties resulted in the poison exhibited by your fellow narrator, me. I got drunk because NewBomb sucks at life, spawning: ruined sex for a Jew/Jap, starting a kitchen fire, spitting on a Garcia look-a-like, and consuming 4000 calories in the span of six minutes.
Responsibility ain't no friend of mine.
VIEW 13 of 13 COMMENTS
alyk:
soleils:
I like how your entries are always filled with pictures.
