life is such fucking BULLSHIT
so i've finally got a job.... tonight i made 1,355 front driver's side interior door handles for the new chevy cobalt. how exciting... so would you think that i should be out having fun now, since this is my first completed week of work in god knows how long? i think that i should be, but if you look at the time this was posted, you would see that i am not partying... i am not celebrating with my friends, because none of them took the time to call me and leave a message about what would be conspiring this evening, nobody bothered to answer the phone when i called them to find out what might be going on... basically, everybody forgot that i existed.... and at this point, i don't even care anymore... as a matter of fact, i HOPE everybody forgets that i exist, so i can slave my fingers to the bone in peace. then i can smoke two packs a day and die an early death from compacted chronic bronchitus, or maybe just a bullet to the brain.
if train A "life" is traveling at 60 miles per hour, and train B "mental collapse" is traveling 345 miles per hour, and they are 20 miles apart, and ryan hansen is standing directly in the middle of them, at what point will all of these ingredients collide to make a nice mess of the surrounding 50 foot area?
the answer is now. as we speak i am soaking my house in gasoline, and looking for a book of matches. then i'm going to go lay down in my bed and go to sleep. goodnight world.
if train A "life" is traveling at 60 miles per hour, and train B "mental collapse" is traveling 345 miles per hour, and they are 20 miles apart, and ryan hansen is standing directly in the middle of them, at what point will all of these ingredients collide to make a nice mess of the surrounding 50 foot area?
the answer is now. as we speak i am soaking my house in gasoline, and looking for a book of matches. then i'm going to go lay down in my bed and go to sleep. goodnight world.