politeanarchist

Mmmm I think it's time to give up on the Match.com thing. Meeting a ton of women hasn't been the boon I thought. They show up late, they don't call back, yadda yadda. What I need is a star on the walk of fame, but how to get it?

Also, I just figured out you can by clothes on Amazon, and I've got a kickass...
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I'm floating in the most peculiar way.

Holy shit, new anthem.

The consequences of yesterday are impossible to calculate, the prospects of tomorrow are impossible to ignore.

The cable goes out and with it, the internet. The technician comes over to fix it, and when it finally gets going up pops SG on my laptop with Dice's booty on the front page. Slightly embarrassing.

So I'm standing in the kitchen in my underwear, wearing latex gloves and hand feeding pre-mashed-up worms to my blind lizard when I realize that I'm an abnormal guy. Still, I maintain that I reached this state through purely logical means.

Things are going good. I usually bitch, but everything's been pretty solid lately. Going to Miami, gonna kick it in the sun down in smuggler's paradise.

It's weird to me how women want me nowadays. I had a special lady friend, we slept together a handful of times, everything seemed pretty typical. The first time something seemed amiss was when I asked her if she missed me after a long vacation. She avoided responding, which was odd. As time went by I couldn't squeeze any kind of emotional response out of...
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New anthem?

Is back.

Sick in bed.

Wit has the front page. I'm (still) in love.