I know I should'nt be complaining since when I reread these lines as a lonely, overweight, friendless, malodorant 47-year-old loser with bad skin and no friends or family, I'll shed a pathetic tear. But right now, it's a bit much. Really. It's like all I could use is the type of evening that my future self has too many of: jerking off naked on the couch, with a bucket's worth of fried chicken carcasses strewn across myself and said couch, all the while pointlessly losing my time (life) perusing the supernet.
In fact, as I write these, my girlfriend is pressuring me to get my ass in gear.
I'll see you on the outside.
1 comment:
I hear you bro.
I'm just wishing for a toilet seat death.
But I'm too hung over to get there.
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