Mine is Quite Big Enough
[Recent Entries][Archive][Friends][User Info]
Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in the "The Legend of Bentley" journal:[<< Previous 20 entries]
|
09:45 pm
[Link] |
Keeping my eye on the ball
sometimes it helps to meet someone infinitely more fucked up than you to remind you of both how bad it isn't, and how much worse it could get, but I've never been close to letting it. God, like meeting a Charles Bukowski character.
What an awesome way to maintain focus and remind myself of the importance of goals.
Your friend may be having a rough time, but he is still out there. See you soon.
|
|
10:05 pm
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/29576695/946452) [Link] |
Carnivore
I currently cannot get an image out of my head.
I'm out at a county fair. Not in this state. Walking through the pig section, looking at the huge hogs. Clean looking, I suppose. Rooting through straw. And there was one pig, nice and pink, laying on its side, probably prize enough, as if I knew what a prize pig looked like.
And a trickle of blood coming from its ass.
Pigs, to me, look already butchered. They look done, even when they're walking around. Big pork chops. If I roasted one on a spit, I wouldn't being to know where to cut.
And yes, I just ate a few pork chops for dinner. Thing is, I'm not happy with them if they're not wrapped in plastic. Why... fuck. Why do we have these things?
|
|
09:36 pm
[Link] |
It will happen everywhere.
Holy crap... how would... The Bunny Ranch... deal in a zombie story?They've got gates, outside security, bouncers...
How is it I'm the only one who thinks of these things?
No, Zombie Strippers doesn't count. That wasn't under assault.
And it should really be written with no sex. Cause you gotta be crazy like that.
|
|
08:48 pm
[Link] |
Stolen Quote
"You know, the guy who kills me? I hope he does it because he hates my guts, not cause it's his job."
-Al Pacino
"Dog Day Afternoon"
|
|
01:38 pm
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/30910110/946452) [Link] |
Off with a bang?
I got the email about the title, and went out. Signed the contract agreement, picked the thing up. Walked to the courthouse, asked what else I needed. Walked back down the three blocks to the bank where my car was to get my wallet and ID.
I should mention here that it's snowing and blowing, so just imagine me after I've been attacked by bags of powdered sugar. Felt good, brisk.
Got the documents, got the title. Got the fucking title. My god, I've got the fucking title. It's really over, she can't threaten me anymore.
Then I went to the other bank and checked my balance. $5,566.55. the symmetry wasn't lost on me. The fuck. I got more out of the 401k payout than I expected. It's probably closer to $4k no, since I paid the last month of bills, but it feels good to have money, to feel secure. In about an hour, I'm gonna go to Sam's and give her and her girls some peanut butter chocolate treats my mom made, because I like to share.
I... I'm pretty sure I'm gonna be alone tonight, ringing in the new year with a movie or something. It's been... you know, I'm not sure I've ever rung in the new year by kissing someone I was honestly in love with at midnight. I rang in 2000 with a six pack in the back of a gas station with a crank addict. Everything since then was Misty, and you know how I feel about her. But part of this year is supposed to be about learning to be alone, my own person, not leaning and not letting anyone lean. If that's how it happens, it'll be appropriate.
But between you and me, if I'm invited to ring in the new year with Sam and her family, there's no way in fuck I'll turn it down. I'll pay a thousand dollars to stay there, and suddenly, I can do that.
There are many things that are important in this life. Some more than others. Some are assigned more meaning than others. I'm pretty sure I can be aware of my desires and needs at the same time. These days anyway, and being able to provide for my own needs helps a lot.
. . .
Okay, reality check. Gotta do this at times. I've got enough money to keep myself, without frivilous spending, in the house for three months. This is not how we want to spend that money. Day after tomorrow is the day after New Year's. It's the new year, and we're focusing on making this new year actually New. New house, new life, new girlfriend, and yes, new job. We'll have to go out and make that happen, get some money coming in and keep things going. No more being lazy, just working. Then staying up late enough to see Sam. hehe. Heh. I've got enough for groceries, to buy food that's healthy. I've got enough to pay for cable on the nights that I'm bored. I'm able to do what I need to do, buy new boots, get gas, go to interviews, whatever. I can do this. I can make a new life for myself, without that girl dictating how it goes. I can do this.
That'll do. If you want to wish me a happy new year, the phone number's on my info page. I'll likely post if it looks like I'll actually be alone tonight. If I don't, possibly the Good Luck Fairy has smiled at me again. Not like she hasn't done that before.
|
11:45 am
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/30756075/946452) [Link] |
Unbelievable!
"I received the title and release from [Crazy Lady's Laywer] late Friday evening. I have
them here at the front desk whenever Matt is able to stop by. No hurry. .
.everything is signed."
I'll post a pic.
And I just got the new title issued! In my name only! It's done! The agreement's signed, the title's mine, I got my 401k payout so I won't have to freak about bills, it's done! I'm free!
I shall now do the happy dance.
Holy shit, I still can't fucking believe it.
Current Location: MY FUCKING HOUSE!
Current Mood:  happy
|
|
10:32 pm
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/29622046/946452) [Link] |
Fortress of Solitude
Stacey left today, so I'm officially living alone.
So I decided to drive up to my parents' for Christmas. I mean, hey, I'd only been up since 11 PM the night before, why not?
Yeah. So. Very. Tired.
Now to see if I can sleep.
|
|
05:34 am
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/26800356/946452) [Link] |
What kind of idiot am I?
This kind. I dropped my cell phone. Into the toilet. And was unable to get it out. With tongs.
I've got a call into my maintenance man friend, but he won't be up for a while. And I don't know if the thing will work after this. I can hope.
Man, this will make getting a job slightly harder, since I don't even know my fucking house number.
Anyway, folks, I didn't have most of the numbers written down, so I'm gonna need some. good_benito@hotmail.com.
Jesus. I hate waking up at 5 in the damned morning and having stupid shit happen.
|
|
04:29 am
[Link] |
Here We Go
You ever get to that point in our life when you don't know what day it is? I don't want to come off sounding like The Big Lewbowski, but today, well, I suppose it's yesterday now, I honestly thought it was Saturday, not Sunday. It happens.
Which means mostly that I've been out of work too long. Time for a report.
Friday the old ex girlfriend cancelled packing her stuff, then called me back to reschedule an hour late. "We got distracted", which translated into something, one more thing, I didn't want to hear. Set it for 7:30 Saturday morning. She made it 20 minutes late, packed her stuff, promised to be back around noon to get her shit out.
Amazingly, it happened. She called me to let her in that morning. She packed her shit. I'd had 3 hours of sleep, but still managed to stay up for it all, negotiating the occasional item, but mostly repeating the mantra in my head, "no price too high to get rid of her." Then she came back a few hours later to load it all up and leave. Nothing too bad. She took all the wastebaskets...
So let's just focus on this for a second. She's got all of her crap out of the house. She's gonna sign the necessary paperwork on Monday, Gods willing. She's actually going to be out of this. Oh. My. God. It's actually going to be done.
. . .
I need to do three things. First, have a "ding dong the witch is gone" party. Second, get a damned job. Third, get a saucepan, since she took most of the dishes. Everything else can wait.
I got what I wanted. I got her out, I got her out of my life. I'll soon have her out of my life legally so she can get her damned payoff (I'm paying money to get her out). I've got an amazing girlfriend who... I don't even know what to do with, she's so great. So what the hell am I feeling?
My mother puts it down. Live alone for three months. no roommates, no nothing. Be alone. Work, and exist. She echoes what most of the people in my life say. If you can't figure that part out, you're fucked. And as much as I love Sam, I'm not moving her in right now, for a variety of reasons, mostly beyond my control. And so I shall.
So, I suppose, the Great Crisis is mostly over. now we'll see how well Matt recovers. Here we go. Happy Monday.
|
|
01:38 am
[Link] |
Set things in motion. I'm insane, and admit it.
A significant confrontation with the ex's boyfriend. enough violence to warrant assault charges on the criminal. Who, I might add, completely dissed my peace offering this afternoon. Nice. I'll save that for tomorrow. Perhaps.
I don't know if this was good or bad. Probably bad. But it definitely sets things in motion. Because this static shit was going to drive me to suicide.
Honestly.
Ah, btw, thanks to everyone who responded to my plea earlier. I need to remember to mention when I make those requests that my phone number's on my info page.
|
|
09:13 pm
[Link] |
Plea for babying.
At about midnight, a little earlier if things go weird, but I think midnight, I'm going to begging anyone, anyone at all, to call me.
Listen. it keeps getting worse, and I'm so afraid of being alone. And I know how very needy that makes me sound.
I guess it's your call if you think I need support right now, or you think I need to learn to deal with being scared and alone.
But the lawyer said I'm fucked, and I'm going to be doing this for the next few months, and I think... it's okay for me to be scared.
Somebody kick my ass for even posting this?
|
|
07:01 am
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/27970375/946452) [Link] |
Matt's having his nervous breakdown this week
You know? Fuck it. Details. Why the hell not?
I have a new girlfriend. I've been seeing her, when I can, for a few months now, she's an old friend, and we've just recently really decided we want to be together. She's...
Quite honestly, she's just about the only thing that makes my life worth living, who makes me feel like I'm worth being alive. Yep, declared love, and it's awesome.
But like I said, she's the only good thing in my life. Last weekend, I got out of town for a few days into Casper for a VD test (if one's gonna start dating again, one should be responsible) and Misty, the now-ex-gf, found herself a few boyfriend. Which, on one hand, is a good thing, because it means she's not pathetically begging me for sex anymore, but on the other hand, means that she's having him over to the house to fuck every chance she gets, which she claims is a lot, and she likes to give me numbers ("I wore him out last night"), my house, and I'm having a little trouble dealing with it.
What? I was with the girl for six years, so yeah, I'm gonna have a little trouble. I mean, it's not too bad, I'm only lost my job and puked twice...
Yeah, that sounds as bad as it is. It's been very, very hard.
But since she's been bringing him over and, I'm pretty sure based on the lack of evidence in the trash, fucking this white supremesist biker boy bareback, and yeah, that bothers me, she's given me her permission to bring my girlfriend, the girl I've fallen in love with over, and so I have three times this week.
Sadly for me, between Sunday and last night, I wasn't... able to cum. I fucked okay, but lost it before my ending. Happens when all's not right in my head.
And last night, oh last night, I very carefully and closely made love to her, not fucking, making love, gorgeous love, and finally, finally, was able to allow myself a release. It was so intense I started crying there on her shoulder as I did it. A bunch of the feelings that I've been needing to release coming out, not all of them, and I stifled some of the crying later because hey, crying's not sexy, but I've really been having a hard time with no way to express it, and her letting me be with her, that helps immesurably.
I am so fucking in love with her. I'm not gonna say if she's the One right now, because I don't know, but as far as her helping me split up with Misty, and now dealing with the aftermath... She one of the best friends I've ever had, and the only friend who just wants to listen and not say I Told You So about her, and really help me work through it and get the hell over all this. Because it is so very hard for me. Really, I'm a fucking wreck. No offense to any other friends trying to help me, she's just doing a better job. And probably, for the most part, you're just too far away.
She doesn't make it all go away, but she does make it tolerable when she's with me. She's patient enough to be okay with it not all going away, and to wait it out with me. She makes me feel so much better, and I really don't know what I'd do without her right now.
And I wanted to tell you all that I love her, that I'm in love with a wonderful girl, and that I'm in so much pain right now that I don't know what to do, except let her be with me, every chance I get. I so love her, so very much.
Okay, sappy over, gonna try to add an hour or two to my three hour's sleep tonight. Because they were back there fucking in the room I set up for them, for her, since I decided to stop letting her have my room, and I have a rough time sleeping through that.
See you all as soon as I can.
|
|
07:18 pm
[Link] |
Was that you on the line, baby?
Hey kids. Somebody left me a voice mail today, singing Blondie's "Call me" quite nicely, but left no name. And see, I was out of service, so I didn't get a missed call. My first two guesses went flat, and it could be just about any girl I know, or a guy with a good falsetto, so if you're on here and gave me a ring... sorry, I can't call you back. No idea who to call. Anyway, let me know.
Yes, the life is still miserable. Doing everything I can, short of being illegal, to get her out of my room, my house, my life. Haven't been eating much, stressed, these things can go badly as she's hell bent on having it go either all her way or badly. Doesn't help that she weaseled her name onto the house title (it was supposed to be just me, it was sold to just me) and the clerk's not fixing it, so either she signs it over willingly or I have to take legal action. And the police won't do anything about it or anything to stop her from breaking the door of my room down if she feels like bugging me. And most of the time all I want to do is sleep, and she's still taking my money and everything she can. So yeah, stressed, miserable, exhausted, fighting to end it. I'll be around.
Current Mood:  exhausted
Current Music: Firewater - secret
|
|
12:14 am
[Link] | Livejournal. Yeah, it's fuckin' live now, isn't it?
When you can judge, within three months, how long a cop's been on the force, either you're far too astute a student of human nature for your own good, or you've had far too many visits from cops at your house.
I don't even want to go into the title problems with the house.
oh. my. god.
anyone mind having an orgy with me here, in the bed she insists is hers still to sleep on, whether i'm here or not, just to convince her that she doesn't belong here any more?
no... figured not. right. to the ex lawyer boss!
Fucking holy fucking shit fuck. Give me zombies.
|
|
07:11 pm
[Link] |
don't let us do this anymore
perhaps. supposed to be, if she keeps this appointment, half an hour before she shows up to talk to me. all leads up to this? kinda. been puking sick nervous for three days, and it won't stop. it won't stop.
jail., suicide, god no, not all this. this is all wrong.
luck. peace. wish me peace at the end.
|
03:59 pm
[Link] |
Knowing when it's not the way
If the Gods are kind, I will never have to see someone that I care about in shackles ever again. Shackles. Fucking shackles, wrists held at the waist, like an animal for slaughter. I can't fucking believe my eyes. Please god never again.
Fucking animals.
|
11:50 am
[Link] |
Not the happy ending we wanted
I needed to post. This is not the post I started this morning. This is not the post I wanted to write.
Oh my fucking god she was arrested last night after hitting me in the face several times and her court arraignment's at 1:30.
This is not how breakups are supposed to go. She doesn't quite deserve this. This isn't supposed to happen. I spent the day switching over bank accounts and changing my locks to protect my shit. She doesn't need criminal charges just because she was too stubborn to leave when I asked her to, to let the relationship end.
I'm so going to court today.
(As you can guess... things have progressed since my last post.)
|
|
10:33 pm
[Link] |
Disappointment
Last night, ah, last night... Last night.
Last night I bought a beer for a 100 year old semi-paralyzed woman on the occasion of her 100th birthday. I got a txt, agreed, bought the beer, brought it to the nursing home, watched it poured into a glass with a straw and very gently guided into her mouth, and she finished the glass and, as is her way, when asked if she wanted more, slowly shook her head. Possibly one of the coolest things I've ever been allowed to do. Interesting as all hell. Felt proud, and I'm not exactly from a culture that respects its elders. Although, I guess I left a sweet and respecting enough phone message for my grandfather for his birthday yesterday, also the same day (Holy shit, they've got the same birthday. Just realized.), that when I called again today to say it in person, they were searching the house for a tape recorder because they wanted to save it. Apparently, I'm just that cool. That fucking cool. Fuck.
The coolest thing I've ever done for a person, possibly. Make me feel good? Oh hell yeah, for about fifteen minutes. The backlash, for no good reason, an avalanche, and we're back in the house. The house that was supposed to make me feel better, be more relaxed, be able to write. The fucking house that was supposed to relieve all the secondhand stress that's been ulcerating my ass for the last two years. Heh. Right. And has it?
Fucking has it? Have people been able to relax or rise above it? Has she been able to stop freaking out and bitching at me day and night for... Fuck, for stupid little shit blown entirely out of proportion, for not being some fucking ideallic insane utopian idea of what her world should be like? For things sane people would unanimously declare isn't worth a fight? Fingerprints on the fridge, for fuck's sake? Am I really supposed to come home every night to a fight about somebody leaving the fucking light on and costing us, and that means costing Me, because I make all the fucking money around here, all of it, fifty fucking cents? That's worth a fucking half hour fight or a night on the couch just to get away from it? What. In. The. Fuck. A month I've been here. A fucking Month. Two thirds of the time I walk into the house straight into a bitch session about little shit that transmutes itself right into a fight and all I can do is hole up because Oh Fucking No! There's no fucking way I can be allowed to relax or take a shower or sleep enough to get up at FOUR IN THE FUCKING MORNING the next day! I've got to stay up and listen to the bitching! The constant repetition of statements I've heard, understood and acknowledged. When will she realize that understanding does not necessarily constitute agreement, or obedience? That sometimes reality has to override the ideal because of the simple rule of what's possible? Does it respond to reason? Does it understand that the realm of the ideal and the realm of the possible are two separate provinces? Does it...
Does it fucking understand that I work my ass off to pay for its FUCKING LIFE?
More, she says, more. Make it perfect. She wants to be the star of Pretty Woman. I'm more... a Raising Arizona type.
And has he been able to rise out of his funk and take enough fucking responsibility to at least pay a fucking bill? To give his life some direction? to do something besides exist? The fuck is he doing using oxygen? My. Fucking. God. I don't even want to think about what to say. My life may have a shitty, wasted, useless, completely unacknowledged purpose, one that does nothing for me, who's supposed to be living it, but at least I chose a fucking purpose. Got a reason to pull my ass out of bed, which this morning was a mammoth exercise. Yeah, he's made great strides as far as being a houseguest, roommate, renter goes. Leaves a small footprint. I can smell the despair from here. Dying slowly is not a career path, nor a reason for God to notice you.
I feel like I'm trying to herd a large family of monkeys along a path the size of the Ho Chi Min trail through a forest of banana trees. I'm trying to be the strong stoic center in all of this and...
Just Fucking man up! Be a fucking grown up! Deal with your shit, with other people's shit, relax, make room for others who are making your life possible, stop being so demanding, stop Denting the Fucking Front Door, just fucking learn how to live.
Yes, she's crazier. Being five times less crazy than the craziest person around doesn't make you any less than two times crazier than the average. We're both fucked.
Christ. Jesus Fucking Christ. I never use capitals. I'm ashamed. First post in three fucking weeks and it's this fucking unloading venting dump and it hardly deals with the shit. That's the only thing I've been able to think about in front of the computer, been able to write. Ready to buy a shed and move into it, no room for any motherfucker to follow me and punch me in the eye in my sleep. (A common occurrence for me.) Run an extension cord and imagine I might get a bit of peace. Take over the spare room and put everything in there into the living room where there's so much spare useless shit it may as well be a large shed. Jesus Fuck. I may own nothing, but that doesn't mean I crave a wall of somebody else's shit towering over my head. (not making sense, am I? No context.) A month. A month and she's not changed. It's gotten a bit worse, and only when I threaten her with homelessness does she back off, then counter with threats of lawsuits. "Dump me and I'll sue you. I've been talking to lawyers." I'm fucking serious. Go ahead and tell me how you build a healthy relationship out of that. Fuck.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I don't deserve five years of this treatment, sex twice a month when she gets lonely and told what a useless worthless broke-ass fucking waste of life I am the rest of the time. When it take a conscious effort on her part not to start a yelling fight each night, something's really fucking wrong.
I shouldn't post this. Heh. She keeps deleting the numbers of people she doesn't like from my cell phone, searches my emails for clues that I've been doing things she doesn't approve of, reviews my text messages while I sleep, demands receipts when I go out to eat or drink without her. Seriously. I shit you not. Yeah, I cheated on her three years ago or so. And yeah, I've been fucking good since then. Go ahead and tell me I owe her how many years of probation. Bull. Fucking. Shit.
Best part? She'll be pissed I even disclosed that information, her being a stalker, nobody else's business, she'll say. Oh well. Save this post, in case she figures out how to delete it, too.
I thought all that through, and then:
Then I melted an assload of almost freshly grated parmesan cheese onto a bowl of my goulash, the batch that came out better, and ate it, and everything, much against all my expectations and hopes, was not all better. Not even the food. No wonder I can't fucking sleep.
p.s. You're wondering why, if I'm so unhappy, I just don't get out of it? I have my reasons, they're selfless, and have nothing to do with the lawsuit bullshit. Even if she did sue and win, I'd be better off financially with her gone. Remember, she has car payments and no job. No, it's because she deserves a chance at a better life, college, a job, a career, a life away from her family. She never got a fair shake. I don't care how crazy she is, everyone deserves a fair shake, and I'll put up with it to give her that. Doesn't mean I have to be happy about it. Christ, like you've never done something you weren't happy about? Like you never swallowed?
Heh. I've got my standards. They're what I live by. No one would expect less of you.
Current Location: Home. Sweet. Home.
Current Music: Sheryl Crow
|
|
09:36 pm
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/26977255/946452) [Link] |
Immersion Interrupted
Yesterday morning NPR announced the case statistics so far for West Nile Virus here in Wyoming. My county ranked second, and was expected to be reporting low because we're such badasses we're too stubborn to go in and get properly diagnosed. The mosquitos, the first I'd seen all year, celebrated by swarming my work area, surrounding me 20 at a time, and eating me alive. Some sub-par bug spray I got off a mechanic barely helped, and I spent half the day hiding in a truck. Tell me, how well can you look through a telescope when you're constantly slapping your arms and shoulders?
Got something with DEET today, figured cancer was the better option, and it worked marginally better. Looking in the mirror tonight, I'm estimating something like 50 bites or so on my arms, shoulders and back. The little fuckers bite through shirts. Hell, just thinking about them makes me feel a dozen on my skin, three distinct bite points.Two shoulder blade and one on the deltoid.
Haven't even bothered looking up the symptoms. Figure, well, I start to feel bad, I'll check it out. It's a virus. Much like AIDS, I've either got it or I don't.
Heh, AIDS. Just realized why a friend of mine got a test a year ago, probably. Gotta love unprotected monogamous sex.
If I ever woke up one day to find that my brain had been mystically transported into someone else's body...
I would totally try heroin.
And have lots and lots of unprotected sex (cause let's be honest - it REALLY does just feel better).
-from an honest to god former call girl
House holds in there, dishes are not a problem when done each night, lawn gets watered, I get some sleep, and I'll continue to convince myself until the weekend when, well, I suppose I'll watch a movie.
There's nobody in this town who can kick my ass for still not taking a bath in my huge fucking bathtub. In two months, I imagine, the story will be the same, luxury you can't use, a nightmare holdback from the ex wife. I'm gonna pour turpentine in it and watch the pretty colors when I flick the cigarette into it, maybe bust out the skylight to vent smoke. Don't want to fuck up the paint much, do we?
Note to self: continue to resolve issues, continue to get sleep, continue to let it roll off your back. You are a rock, you are an island, you've held it up this fucking long, keep up the laughably good work. Provide, persevere, preserve, conserve, be thrifty, keep your shit together.
You betcha.
Don't care. I'm still learning to broil steaks and make ceaser salad.
"And I'll come home, to Illinois, on the day after tomorrow."
-Tom Waits
Current Location: I suppose it's time to start writing "Home" here, eh?
Current Music: Waits. Recent work.
|
|
09:09 pm
![[User Picture]](http://l-userpic.livejournal.com/26977258/946452) [Link] |
I'm a contestant on Hell's Kitchen!
Oh holy god I'm tired. and yet, posting seems like a good idea. Because, you know, that's what I wanted to do.
Official I've got all my shit in move in date was yesterday. Brought my last two boxes into the house and called it mine. Misty's stuff, well... for example, she's got enough dishes and silverware to stock five (yes, 5) good sized kitchens, so moving all her stuff in has taken some more time. I looked at my possessions, all two badly packed carloads of them (I've not accumulated much stuff since my pathetically epic road trip two years ago) and felt like Edward Norton in Fight Club, looking down at the remains of his fridge in the middle of the street, "A refrigerator full of condiments. How pathetic." (badly quoted)
Mine was: "Four fucking tubs? That's it? Are you shitting me?"
I was not, as it happened, being shitted. I may own a house, but I still only own enough stuff to fill the guest room. Ah well, my renter and cleaning lady seem to have enough furniture and kitchenware to hold me.
Memorable quote for the night? "Hey Honey! Guess what I'm doing! I'm tossing the salad!"
If I had one of those girlfriends who found me hilarious and quoted all my bullshit sayings that woulda been gold. As it happens, the chicken caesar salad turned out pretty good. The secret? Extra parmesan.
I do love to cook. Expect food porn one of these days. Pics of the house. Shot of the empty room I've been rotting in. Expect many things, but not tonight, because I'm typing fast so I can go to sleep faster. fourteen hour days followed by schlepping boxes around in the evenings has fucking done me in, and by the time I finally relax, well...
I seem to have purchased, along with a house, a big motherfucking bathtub. Oh, yes, there will be bubbles.
(It's funnier if the last part's done in Jigsaw's voice.)
|
[<< Previous 20 entries] |
![[info]](http://l-stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
good_benito's journal