mysweetisrael

I just gorged myself on a megabreakfast at Waffle House. There's one just across the bridge from where I live. I'm there way too often. We're down with most of the employees because we're cool and we tip the shit out of them. It's that whole server brother/sisterhood thing. We keeps it real, yo.

My stomach is full of all sorts of edible garbage. Sheesh. I feel like I need a cigarette and I don't even smoke...tobacco.

I've been at the beach a lot the past two days. I've been off and making the most of my leisure time by being as leisurely as possible. I usually don't do a damned thing on my days off. Other than when I was at the beach and at Waffle House, I didn't leave the house at all. Oh wait, I take that back. I did walk across the street to the beach while talking to my brother on the phone. And I sat on the porch for a little bit with my buddy Larkin. But other than that I was either watching TV or wacking off in my room.

People often just randomly show up at my place. It's pretty cool, and only rarely aggravating. I've never really had that before. It's something I'm only now getting used to. It still jars me from my surly Northern ways. It's the beach, man. Chill out. Just some buds stoppin' by to see what's shakin' and maybe burn one and have some beers. Yeah, life is OK. Stop on by.

But if it takes a minute for me to answer the door it's only because I'm trying to shoo my boner away.

Peace,
msi.