Bitchfaces. Y’all. Sloppy hos, what’s happening?
Oh, that’s fantastic. Me? Nuh uh, I’m over here doing The Dumb Shit.
Yes, surprised Pikachu face, blah blah. I know nobody would have suspected that I would be involved in The Dumb Shit. What, with my whole history of The Dumb Shit.
I know that this may come as a complete surprise, but I have a problem with letting old emotions come back and bite me right in my ass. I am a rehasher, a lay awake and thinker, a what iffer. I can’t just let shit go. I can’t just move the fuck on and not let shit consume me.
It’s not my most admirable quality, that’s for certain.
So, as of late, I’ve been really gnawing on the idea of calling myself ready to move forward. I don’t know why. My teeth haven’t been kicked in for some months, so why not, that’s what my dumb ass was thinking.
I don’t even need to complete this thought. Y’all have rode this out with me plenty of times by now, y’all know the fucking drill.
Anyway, if one of y’all could kindly swing by and punch me in my face between the hours of 1 to 5 pm. Weekday, preferably, but I’ll work with what ya got.
Can I get one of my super smart science bitches to talk the benefits of shock training? No, not for Puffin. I’m poorly trained, and it’s become problematic. I tried rolling up a magazine, but it was ineffective due to the fact that they’re only about 12 pages long now. Not enough to leave a mark, that’s for sure.
If anyone needs me, I’ll be over here writing sentences like my momma used to make me do. 2,000 times of “I will not grab my brothers by the nostrils and drag them out of my room”, and I really thought twice the next time I grabbed my brothers by the nostrils and dragged them from my room.
Willing to try damned near anything at this point.
Fuck.
-Q