"I understand you're having a difficult time killing these things, Sheriff. "
I'm fairly drunk right now.
I'm over at my buddy Joe's place. We drank a bottle of "my" rum. I say "my" rum because the real bottle I brought over her 6 months ago was drank by Joe and his friends, and he replaced it, and tried to pass it off as the same bottle. I knew this wasn't the same bottle because mine had a black cap, and was 1000 ML. This one had an orange cap and is only 750 ML. He explained the situation, and how his use of my bottle was a "valiant" effort.
Anyway. My cell phone is broke. In half. Cheap ass LG shit. No more calls for me for a while. Also, my voice is very, very scratchy and sore right now. I spent most of the night telling stories to my Marine City friends. I'm somewhat of a bard to them; They really like my story telling skills and listen well to my stories. I explained my average day at college, the Sarah saga, the Jackie escapades, and my philosophy of Bitches Ain't Shit.
Now everyone's asleep. It's almost 5 AM. My eyes are burning, my lips are chapped, my throat is sore and my head feels fifty pounds heavy. After this I plan on crashing on the shitty couch in the shitty apartment in a shitty city after a fairly good night.
Rest in pieces, cell phone. And thanks to spell checker, the words are spelled right, but it doesn't check to make sure if I make sense.
I'm over at my buddy Joe's place. We drank a bottle of "my" rum. I say "my" rum because the real bottle I brought over her 6 months ago was drank by Joe and his friends, and he replaced it, and tried to pass it off as the same bottle. I knew this wasn't the same bottle because mine had a black cap, and was 1000 ML. This one had an orange cap and is only 750 ML. He explained the situation, and how his use of my bottle was a "valiant" effort.
Anyway. My cell phone is broke. In half. Cheap ass LG shit. No more calls for me for a while. Also, my voice is very, very scratchy and sore right now. I spent most of the night telling stories to my Marine City friends. I'm somewhat of a bard to them; They really like my story telling skills and listen well to my stories. I explained my average day at college, the Sarah saga, the Jackie escapades, and my philosophy of Bitches Ain't Shit.
Now everyone's asleep. It's almost 5 AM. My eyes are burning, my lips are chapped, my throat is sore and my head feels fifty pounds heavy. After this I plan on crashing on the shitty couch in the shitty apartment in a shitty city after a fairly good night.
Rest in pieces, cell phone. And thanks to spell checker, the words are spelled right, but it doesn't check to make sure if I make sense.