Fuck this, it's time I buy a Wii.
EVERYONE now owns the new NINTENDO, except for me, John and Joan. Fuck this, I've waited long enough. I'm working myself to death at the new store... 13 hours a day, day after day... So I can have one little simple pleasure. My bedroom has Penis Envy, without a Wii. So yeah, I'm going to pony up for one so I can play Super Smash Brothers Brawl and the new StarFox when it comes out. Then I'll be happy.
I wish I could make everyone else happy in my life, too. Phil, write the next greatest Grammy winning hit so we can go rock out already!
Maybe I'll marry some Euro-chick billionaire... j/k
I CAN HAS SUPER MODEL? I doubt it.
All I've got going for me is a personality, not looks, a Ron Jeremy cock or even height. (I heard some girls like tall guys, I dunno.)
I need to get published and signed, so that I have something going for me. WOmen like the smell of success and right now, I'm constructed out of FAIL and SUCK. No, this journal isn't about "pitty me", it's my way of saying, I need to get my act together.
I constantly get readers saying I'm good enough that they would buy a book from a shelf with my name on it. I need to get my tail in gear and write! But I've dedicated myself to finishing my current projects first because people are waiting on those. I won't die before i write something original, I've got plenty of originals in the works. BUT, having a job slows me down because I can't dedicate myself to it, like I used to when I was at Budget. Anyhow, the day my published book sells its ten thousandth copy, I'll quit my job and write / do music full time. If it sells ten thousand in a short time, which would amaze me, I'll rent a fancy car and drive to work to turn in my keys and badge. If I somehow sell ten thousand copies in like, a month... or less... I'll dress in a versace suit with armoni wingtip shoes and be like, "BLIGGITY BLAOW, BITCHES! AH QUIT! See that (rented) LOTUS OUT THERE? THat's MINE! PEACE BITCHES!" Then put on expensive (rented) Sunshades and walk out with a perpetual hard on from just having sold my book to ten thousand people.
If I go ont he New York Times Best Seller's List in the first year of releasing the story, I'll drive to Tennessee that day, give her a huge briefcase of Twenties and then do a backflip off of her front stoop, hop in my sports car, blow kisses and drive away, blairing some random music. Then I'll drive to Joan's and drop a phat gold bar in her lap then do a somersault into my car, through the sunroof, then drive up to my step dad and drop a small mint into his pocket, because of all that he's given me. Why? Because! I'll be working out the terms and agreements to a movie deal and... tits!
Yeah, I day dream too much but I HAVE NOTHING IN MY LIFE so let me have my dreams.
Dig?!
-me
I wish I could make everyone else happy in my life, too. Phil, write the next greatest Grammy winning hit so we can go rock out already!
Maybe I'll marry some Euro-chick billionaire... j/k
I CAN HAS SUPER MODEL? I doubt it.
All I've got going for me is a personality, not looks, a Ron Jeremy cock or even height. (I heard some girls like tall guys, I dunno.)
I need to get published and signed, so that I have something going for me. WOmen like the smell of success and right now, I'm constructed out of FAIL and SUCK. No, this journal isn't about "pitty me", it's my way of saying, I need to get my act together.
I constantly get readers saying I'm good enough that they would buy a book from a shelf with my name on it. I need to get my tail in gear and write! But I've dedicated myself to finishing my current projects first because people are waiting on those. I won't die before i write something original, I've got plenty of originals in the works. BUT, having a job slows me down because I can't dedicate myself to it, like I used to when I was at Budget. Anyhow, the day my published book sells its ten thousandth copy, I'll quit my job and write / do music full time. If it sells ten thousand in a short time, which would amaze me, I'll rent a fancy car and drive to work to turn in my keys and badge. If I somehow sell ten thousand copies in like, a month... or less... I'll dress in a versace suit with armoni wingtip shoes and be like, "BLIGGITY BLAOW, BITCHES! AH QUIT! See that (rented) LOTUS OUT THERE? THat's MINE! PEACE BITCHES!" Then put on expensive (rented) Sunshades and walk out with a perpetual hard on from just having sold my book to ten thousand people.
If I go ont he New York Times Best Seller's List in the first year of releasing the story, I'll drive to Tennessee that day, give her a huge briefcase of Twenties and then do a backflip off of her front stoop, hop in my sports car, blow kisses and drive away, blairing some random music. Then I'll drive to Joan's and drop a phat gold bar in her lap then do a somersault into my car, through the sunroof, then drive up to my step dad and drop a small mint into his pocket, because of all that he's given me. Why? Because! I'll be working out the terms and agreements to a movie deal and... tits!
Yeah, I day dream too much but I HAVE NOTHING IN MY LIFE so let me have my dreams.
Dig?!
-me