maveora

You chicks is all crazy.

I have some Bob Dylan for a special someone:

It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
Like you never done before
It ain't no use in callin' out my name, gal
I can't hear you any more
I'm a-thinkin' and a-wond'rin' walkin down the road
I once loved a woman, a child I'm told
I give her...
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Steak, shrimp, fifty beers in the fridge, and a $200 sack of kush. Good night last night.

I miss my old lady. Problems become exponentially more difficult over distance.

And even though she's mad at me, I just can't quit wanting to improve the situation, even when I'm just too far away.

So, I answer the door this morning, thinking it was going to be my neighbor, but it was some Jehovah Witnesses (on a fucking Monday) and I answered the door naked, bowl in hand and my pitbull going nuts. I always wonder what they think about things like that.

If planes were made of bananas, the great apes would be Jihadists.

Fuck all you people with vaginas.

So I got a new dugout, and I love it, but I shouldn't have spent the money, even though it was minimal.

Just a mere two weeks until me and my buddies lock in our tickets for the Netherlands. Five days in Amsterdam, two in Paris, three star hotel and roundtrip airfare for $680!? Hell yes I'm going!

I'm baked.

"At least these hos big and cute, not big and fucked up, you done fucked a skinny uglass ho, so nigga what's up?"

I love it when song lyrics become actual advice. Especially when it's repeated (almost) verbatim.

Roommates are a nice thing to have. So is pot.

Also, I'm planning on winning the lottery Tuesday, so I can quit my job.

I can tell it's spring, because everyone wants to fuck.

I'm banging an attorney. First sugar mama.

The more money I make, the more money I want.