Mmmm... fruit loops.
Mmmm... coffee...
What a rough night. Fo-shizzle. Wait, I don't know how to speak hop.
So I've decided to not drink for a while. This decision comes after one hell of a Body Damage Assesment (BDA), A.K.A. the thing you do the morning after getting so trashed that you black out. That's been about every night since coming back from Iraq. I don't remember being that bad after The 'Stan, but fuck it.
I've also discovered that I have sent a drunken love letter to my no-shit-crush. A little confused? Well kids, it's time for a heart to heart. You see, some times grown-ups lie about things. Whether they lie about how much money they make, where they live, where they were during the time of the crime in question, or whom they have a crush on isn't important, the fact is that they lie, and they do it all the time.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all about some Avril, I'd love to do her, just... it's not like I "obsess" over her, and I'm pretty sure that is the whole point of a crush... or maybe I need some theropy. Whatever, fact is that I've been like totally crushing over my best friend's little sister since she was so young that she pro'lly didin't even know what a blow job was, and if she did, shame on her.
Now she's around 18 (I think...) and in a country I'm about to get shipped to by Uncle Fuck Head... I mean Sam. Anyway, I got all twisted and professed my love to the kid over the email. I can't seem to "unsend" it, and that means it's time for repercussions. FUCK!
More important: Why is there a band-aid on my cock? I mean, how do you even cut that thing? Man, fuck. That's the last time I watch The Ring alone.
Mmmm... coffee...
What a rough night. Fo-shizzle. Wait, I don't know how to speak hop.
So I've decided to not drink for a while. This decision comes after one hell of a Body Damage Assesment (BDA), A.K.A. the thing you do the morning after getting so trashed that you black out. That's been about every night since coming back from Iraq. I don't remember being that bad after The 'Stan, but fuck it.
I've also discovered that I have sent a drunken love letter to my no-shit-crush. A little confused? Well kids, it's time for a heart to heart. You see, some times grown-ups lie about things. Whether they lie about how much money they make, where they live, where they were during the time of the crime in question, or whom they have a crush on isn't important, the fact is that they lie, and they do it all the time.
Don't get me wrong, I'm all about some Avril, I'd love to do her, just... it's not like I "obsess" over her, and I'm pretty sure that is the whole point of a crush... or maybe I need some theropy. Whatever, fact is that I've been like totally crushing over my best friend's little sister since she was so young that she pro'lly didin't even know what a blow job was, and if she did, shame on her.
Now she's around 18 (I think...) and in a country I'm about to get shipped to by Uncle Fuck Head... I mean Sam. Anyway, I got all twisted and professed my love to the kid over the email. I can't seem to "unsend" it, and that means it's time for repercussions. FUCK!
More important: Why is there a band-aid on my cock? I mean, how do you even cut that thing? Man, fuck. That's the last time I watch The Ring alone.