Eighteen years, eighteen years. And then he found out the kid wasn't his....

[szadek]

Sorry, sorry. Using Kanye West to open up a post wasn't exactly the BEST idea, but it was an idea nontheless. So fuck off. Anyway, 3 months later, and I finally decide to update. Alot of things happen in three months. Loss of friends, loss of a home, and upcoming near the four month mark is a loss of a job. To quote Tony the Tiger "THHHHEEEEEYYYYYY'RREEEE GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRREEEEEAAATTTTT!!!!!!" I wish I could have a fourth loss for the forth month. Hmmmmm....Lost friends, lost home, lost job, lost all faith in humanity. There we go, in order from February to May. Life sucks. But sometimes, you just have to grin and bare it. Take one for the team! Or some such symbolism. Symbology. Heh, love that part in Boondock Saints. Anyway, I've lost all train of thought and fear that I've become disconjointed at this juncture and that my musings may become quite nebulous to the unobservant. So....I'll stop myself here and continue chewing on my Orbit gum (shameless product plug!). Be cool guys and ghouls. And stay away from necrophiliacs if you're a corpse.

~Michael.

p.s. Continuing the styles of my p.s.'s (pee-ess-is-zz. phonetics for the win!), I'd like to put a little diddy down here about Camptown races and how they're five miles long. Ha. I'm such a comedian. Camptown races. What were people smoking in the thirties? If someone can give me an answer, let me know. I want to hit on some of THAT toke.

p.p.s FUCK YOUR SPELL CHECK LIVEJOURNAL! Done.