Today was really sexual.
I got out of bed really early because my mom was yelling at me.
I feel unusual because my antidepressants are making me hairy.
I'm so stoned.
Last night I had to go and pay Joshua's bail. He's such a jerk. He got arrested for punching the Walmart clerk in the face for refusing to sell him beer. He's only 16!
I want to tell the world to get fucked.
I am sharpening my knives before I go to work today, because I'm going to cut out Robert's heart and feed it to him for losing my mail.
Today, I got a digital camera! Yes! Here's some photos of my girlfriend in the nude (but don't tell her that I've posted them here - she'll kill me! Har har.)
I want to say thanks to my vagina.
I went to the doctor yesterday, and he said I have bipolar disorder, and a healthy imagination.
You should all do this quiz! It's amazingly accurate. You just put in your name and birthday, and it will tell you who you're sexually compatible with.
That's enough for now. But I'll leave you with this poem I wrote. It's about my friend Robert, who has bipolar disorder. Just like me. And Heidi.
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