(no subject)
Most men would define their existence as sufferable - or even good or proper - living with a 9-5 job to come home from, a molded goldfish gone belly up in the tank next to a Lucky Strike, and a sloppy handjob every five days.
Knowing this helps me grasp how lucky I am; tonight my girlfriend made home made pizza - not that nasty kind you find yourself with on an inspired hang over-sunday - bot a proper one. A couple of days before that she made a three-vourse dinner. Every once in a while she makes me breakfast in bed, and tonight she even worked as a private bartender for a little while. Life's good for a silly old bastard with no job.
Sometimes the sun shines on the ones that least deserve it.
Being a bastard works.
Knowing this helps me grasp how lucky I am; tonight my girlfriend made home made pizza - not that nasty kind you find yourself with on an inspired hang over-sunday - bot a proper one. A couple of days before that she made a three-vourse dinner. Every once in a while she makes me breakfast in bed, and tonight she even worked as a private bartender for a little while. Life's good for a silly old bastard with no job.
Sometimes the sun shines on the ones that least deserve it.
Being a bastard works.