tryst

I am so fucking livid right now you have no idea. 5 minutes ago, some fucking cocksmoker in a silver pickup truck drove by and hit my fucking PARKED CAR and then sped off like the raisin-balled shithead he is.

I went after him, primed for committing some seriously justified manslaughter, but he got away. Fuuuccccckkkk.
One of my taillights has now been transformed into con-fucking-fetti, and there's a huge blue chunk of the back of my car that is just completely fucking gone. There's a hole in the back of my car so big I could stick my fucking dome through it. I don't have insurance, and there's no way I can afford to fix this. I'm fucked. My dad is going to flip out when I show up for Thanksgiving. He might even resurrect the leather belt I loved so much as a kid.

So I'm going to sell songs that don't yet exist. I'm so completely shit-pissed right now I don't even know if I'm making any sense. Will those of you in Richmond please keep your eyes peeled for a silver/grey pick up truck with a (probably) busted front right headlight. And for those who have amazing jobs and want your very own song, please send any and all donations to 217 Roseneath Rd. Richmond, Va 23221. I'm so beyond caring how uncool this actually is.

And if you were the one who hit my car, perhaps you would like to star in my newest film, "A Streetcar Named Castration". Fuck you.................................

Going to cry and wake up some more of my roommates now.