Since I’m exhausted and getting ready to collapse at my computer, this blog post is dedicated to simplicity (Not the “I dun’t learn so good” kind, but the “short and sweet” kind). I’ve decided to expose myself to you, my friends. Lucky you! Now, I’ll just need you to take a second to input your credit card info at the bottom of the page…No? Alright, I don’t blame you. Especially since there’s no cartoon nudity involved, I wouldn’t pay for this drivel either.
So, what am I exposing? I’m giving you a peek at what a typical elapsed minute looks like inside the tap dancer’s minefield that is my thought processes. Here we go…
A) I wonder if that asshat realizes that even though he’s changed lanes fifteen times on the freeway, he and his angina are nowhere fucking nearer their destination because they’re sitting in TRAFFIC. I wonder if I would need a very big hammer to mash a buttplug into his ear? He’s probably even got a whole trunk full of the things.
B) Speaking of sexual deviants, I told Bryan I’d have a new chapter of our book done tonight. Shit. I never should have played hopscotch with those drunken midgets. I’ll never get any writing done now. I’m feeling all uninspired and stuff. Maybe if I just stop off at the bar...
C) Remember that time Aaron lived next door to the gay bar and we always tried to talk him into going there to get free drinks?
D) Man, Elton John rocks.
E) The word “pianist” amuses me more than it should.
F) Stop changing lanes, you illiterate fucking swine! You and your Beemer are nothing but festering, oozy, polyps clogging up the colon trail of traffic!
G) They make a 1-series BMW now? When did this happen? It looks like a shiny go-kart. I’m pretty sure that’s just a Honda Civic with a boner bullseye on the back. Shame on you, Bavaria.
H) Aaaah, crème. Delicious. My heart may one day burst from my chest like an aortic cannonball, but damn it will have been worth all those Dunkin’ Donuts crullers.
I just realized that in the last minute there’s been an inordinate amount of sexual phallic imagery running through my head. Don’t read into that.
Beer: Green Line
Music: Black Rebel Motorcycle Club