Nutrition Facts

Here's a fun fact, I've lost almost all inspiration to write in this fucking thing. It used to be easy but for some reason lately it's become a chore. And it's been weeks since I wrote anything of substance. Yet you people still come back day after day to see if I've written anything new. Well guess what. Here's something new.

I'm pretty sure there's a brothel of whores living next door. Now I could be wrong, but when 5 sluttily dressed 20 something year olds are living with a greasy 60 year old Italian guy, there's some pimpage going on.

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I stopped typing the above post two days ago. I figured I'd find some inspiration and finish the bit on the whores next door. But instead I decided to do some primary research and knock on their door.

Needless to say I'm 100 dollars poorer and I walk with sort of a limp.

God they're slutty.

Fresh biscuits.

You've Got Maelstrom

I fully understand my slackage of writing. I've been busy as all fuck. Once again, trying to goddamn graduate. I'm sorry your life sucks so much every day you have to navigate to this page to see if I wrote anything. Well I fucking didn't. Is that a tear? Uh oh...



If I drink enough I'll tell you who shot Kennedy tonight. Stay tuned.

Unacceptable

The title describes the amount of things I feel are pressing in my life right now. A ridiculously unacceptable amount. Trying to graduate from fucking college is harder than going to college.

Tangent:
P.S. If you've never listened to U.N.K.L.E. do yourself a favor and check it out. Hit me up I'll get it in your grubby little hands somehow.

Reverse Tangent:
You are alone? Maybe I can help you. Not likely. Especially if you are a dude. Or in excess of 180 pounds. That would just be unreal. And I was thinking, well maybe female body builders would be something I could let slide. But that shit is weird. So, no.

I don't know what the fuck is going on in my life lately. I have little direction and care even less. But instead of going into one of those "what is my life for" self groveling things, I'm going to tell you what my life isn't for.

1. Leaving highway cones neatly where they were placed.

2. Paying for tranny hookers.

3. Not eating hush puppies everytime I drink at Robbies.

4. Spending any more time not being this guy's friend.



5. Listening to music featuring the slide guitar for more than a single solo per album.

6. Playing Monopoly until the end of the game.

6b. Playing the banker in Monopoly fairly.

7. Dealing with messicans writing up my satellite parking ticket while I'm trying to get on my goddamn Delta flight.

8. Writing nursery rhymes that do not include fire and brimstone.

9. Any sort of financial accounting.

10. Tenth item.

Here, have some money. I didn't find it on a coked out hooker I beat with a bat.

Update? Nope!

Yeah yeah yeah, I know I haven't written anything in over a week. And you know all of you for some reason still check this shit.

WELL I'VE GOT A LOT OF SHIT TO DO, OK? MAYBE I'LL WRITE SOMETHING TOMORROW. BUT DON'T GET YOUR DAMN HOPES UP.

Me and Indy are in quite a predicament. So get off our asses.