3(?)4(?) whiskeys and 2-3 beers later (dot(dot(dot)
oooh man, getting drunk with a friend that brings up your "ex" is a baaaad idea. i almost lost my shit. ALMOST.
she was only trying to help, but good lord. please, don't rock the boat... i can barely stand as it is.
does the body rule the mind or does the mind rule the body? i dunno... ask me why and I'll spit in your eye.
my brother's ex called me up and we were talking. she fucking bawled her eyes out for almost an hour straight. my brother is so fucking smart but sometimes he's such a goddamn idiot. he's chasing after this other girl that not only has rejected him but has had an addiction problem (in the process losing the custody of her children to her ex-husband) when this other girl, who is hotasfuck-and-smartasfuck-and-loveshim is right there.
so he's my brother, what do i do? i tell him he's being stupid and his head is up his ass, but then i have to back him 100%. ugh.
i hate people. and i'd swear that to god if I believed.
sometimes i want to just grab the world and douse it in gasoline. zippo? no thanks, a match will do. let's go at this like Dusk 'till Dawn.
wait, that was a zippo? fuck, i don't remember.
and this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how bands like "Linkin Park" get started.
Everything you say to me, puts me one step closer to the edge and I'm about to...
Break.
yeah, that's fucking quality right there.
that's what happens when you don't take your lame angsty-ass teenage problems, that you should have dealt with years ago, to therapy when you're fucking mid-upper 20's. you start a lame-ass band that dominates the airwaves for like, oh, an agonizing 20 minutes (instead of the normal slightly-tolerable 15) and go home and cry, or write in your livejournal, or your suicidegirls blog.
oh god. that's me... sans band and money.
seriously, that's just pathetic. but they tell me you're not alone as long as you'r with St. Pauli's Girl.
oooh man, getting drunk with a friend that brings up your "ex" is a baaaad idea. i almost lost my shit. ALMOST.
she was only trying to help, but good lord. please, don't rock the boat... i can barely stand as it is.
does the body rule the mind or does the mind rule the body? i dunno... ask me why and I'll spit in your eye.
my brother's ex called me up and we were talking. she fucking bawled her eyes out for almost an hour straight. my brother is so fucking smart but sometimes he's such a goddamn idiot. he's chasing after this other girl that not only has rejected him but has had an addiction problem (in the process losing the custody of her children to her ex-husband) when this other girl, who is hotasfuck-and-smartasfuck-and-loveshim is right there.
so he's my brother, what do i do? i tell him he's being stupid and his head is up his ass, but then i have to back him 100%. ugh.
i hate people. and i'd swear that to god if I believed.
sometimes i want to just grab the world and douse it in gasoline. zippo? no thanks, a match will do. let's go at this like Dusk 'till Dawn.
wait, that was a zippo? fuck, i don't remember.
and this, Ladies and Gentlemen, is how bands like "Linkin Park" get started.
Everything you say to me, puts me one step closer to the edge and I'm about to...
Break.
yeah, that's fucking quality right there.
that's what happens when you don't take your lame angsty-ass teenage problems, that you should have dealt with years ago, to therapy when you're fucking mid-upper 20's. you start a lame-ass band that dominates the airwaves for like, oh, an agonizing 20 minutes (instead of the normal slightly-tolerable 15) and go home and cry, or write in your livejournal, or your suicidegirls blog.
oh god. that's me... sans band and money.
seriously, that's just pathetic. but they tell me you're not alone as long as you'r with St. Pauli's Girl.