gayballs

Can't sleep.
Getting off my meds is harder than I thought. Not that I'm dealing with any of the horror stories I've read online, but yeah. this dizziness is for the birds. At least I can work, still.
But I'm fidgety and my attention span is fucking tiny.
I love that spellcheck doesn't catch me anymore for curse words. it KNOWS.

My name is Gabriel. When I go to type my name out, I sometimes type Gay-- and then backspace once and continue. Gabriel.
That's a little fucked up, I think.

Speaking of gay, I saw and was totally let down by Talk to Me last night.

Also, I didn't believe a lot of that stuff ever happened.

Thursday night means pay-night. Midnight pay night.
Thursday also means the week is almost over. FUCK this week. I'm tired of this week. I'm tired of waiting around. Just call me for that job, NC Machinery, I'll make your ass happy-dappy.

I hate not being able to sleep. I used to think I was dead on the inside because I haven't lost sleep from excitement in years. Now I'm here and I kind of wish I was dead on the inside again.

Hillary made dinner last night:


You know that if I leave there'll be at least a few nights where I'll be heating up my spaghetti-os and eating crackers and I'll be really, really mad.

PLANET UNICORN HAYYYY