(no subject)
Lint in my pockets.
If I had a dollar, I’d procure the new Chili Peppers album, all eighteen dollars and ninety-nine cents of it. Which would pretty much mean not eating for the next week and two days. If there’s anything worth not eating over, it would be Anthony Kiedis’ persuasive crooning about California (once again). Stop making it sound so “that’s the place I want to live in,” you bastard.
If I had a quarter, I’d stop spending all of that damn shit on food. Who needs sustenance in today’s society? Nicole Ritchie’s bony ass said thin is what she likes all over her everything. Cosmo doesn’t promote ana baggage, the expensive grocery store down the block does. I have a new philosophy, if you’re not starving, your fat ass is eating too much.
If I had two dollars and fifty cents. I’d have two dollars and fifty cents. And that could head towards the bills or John Frusciante’s pocket money. I haven’t decided which yet. All I know is dealing a monthly dose of rent sucker punches me in the stomach everytime I go withdraw funds from that hellbox. I don’t even look at the receipt after, I just pass go and cry.
If I was rich, I’d buy the OC some new writers. Did anyone see Marissa Coop’s death scene in Orange County a couple weeks before. I tuned in to the last ten minutes to watch Seth overdose on pot. But all I received was a fucking lobotomy of a plot. That had to be the worst death scene in television history. Ryan should have just stabbed the bitch and sent her out the door proper-like.
If I had a dime-piece, I’d buy my friends some sunblock, something a hundred proof, something especially for Horgan. This weekend we went up to my friend Ben’s friend of a family friend’s boathouse and popped a chill pill in the lake, did a little tubing on the water. We left two white and one brown and came back with one brown and two tomatoes. White people and their silly need to become darker. I laughs.
If I had the cash, I’d put the sun’s lights out. Or at least purchase a few patches of shade here and there where it isn’t mind blistering hot. Talk about hot pants season if hot pants were in. It’s so hot outside the boogeyman came out of my closet to get some ice cream. He says hey.
If I had a dollar, I’d procure the new Chili Peppers album, all eighteen dollars and ninety-nine cents of it. Which would pretty much mean not eating for the next week and two days. If there’s anything worth not eating over, it would be Anthony Kiedis’ persuasive crooning about California (once again). Stop making it sound so “that’s the place I want to live in,” you bastard.
If I had a quarter, I’d stop spending all of that damn shit on food. Who needs sustenance in today’s society? Nicole Ritchie’s bony ass said thin is what she likes all over her everything. Cosmo doesn’t promote ana baggage, the expensive grocery store down the block does. I have a new philosophy, if you’re not starving, your fat ass is eating too much.
If I had two dollars and fifty cents. I’d have two dollars and fifty cents. And that could head towards the bills or John Frusciante’s pocket money. I haven’t decided which yet. All I know is dealing a monthly dose of rent sucker punches me in the stomach everytime I go withdraw funds from that hellbox. I don’t even look at the receipt after, I just pass go and cry.
If I was rich, I’d buy the OC some new writers. Did anyone see Marissa Coop’s death scene in Orange County a couple weeks before. I tuned in to the last ten minutes to watch Seth overdose on pot. But all I received was a fucking lobotomy of a plot. That had to be the worst death scene in television history. Ryan should have just stabbed the bitch and sent her out the door proper-like.
If I had a dime-piece, I’d buy my friends some sunblock, something a hundred proof, something especially for Horgan. This weekend we went up to my friend Ben’s friend of a family friend’s boathouse and popped a chill pill in the lake, did a little tubing on the water. We left two white and one brown and came back with one brown and two tomatoes. White people and their silly need to become darker. I laughs.
If I had the cash, I’d put the sun’s lights out. Or at least purchase a few patches of shade here and there where it isn’t mind blistering hot. Talk about hot pants season if hot pants were in. It’s so hot outside the boogeyman came out of my closet to get some ice cream. He says hey.