nomeshhats

Few things in life are as sweet as coming home drunk and alone. When I think of good times, I think of curling up naked and alone, falling asleep to the patter of my own tears.

It's friday. I've worked over 90 hours this week. I've written 15,000 lines of code, and I've consumed enough soda that old ladies get osteoperosis by simply breathing the air after I walk by. I'm going to a friend's party and I'm going to, fingers crossed, puke in someone's throat before I shit myself and pass out in someone's lawn.

The glory days of summer.

Waiting for my shower to warm up has given me a few minutes to troll through a few of the journals here. I think this place trumps all when it comes to sheer amount of pompous blathering.

You're a vegan, that's great. But don't hold your moral candle to mine. I don't have any problem with vegetarianism, or veganism, for that matter, but I find...
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Nothing hampers your productivity like a shower that fails to get warm. It's like lustfully jumping into bed with a flacid penis. Oh woe, sweet, sweet woe. Although, with waking up at 7pm, the last thing I should be doing, I guess, is complaining about how something's stifiling my attempt to be productive.

My affirmation ball asks "have you lost weight?" Does it have to...
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Apparently Suicide Girls doesn't think I have any friends. It's like highschool until I got the Camero IROC-Z all over again. Well, that's a lie. I never had a car in highschool, let alone a Camero. I did have a REO Speedwagon bootleg that I found at a garage sale for $1, though. Oh memories. It's too bad their music made me want to punch...
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Actually, this is my first entry, thank you very much.