The best.

The best have always -and will always- come from struggle.
For fear to you is dollars and cents
Bank accounts and rent
Mortgage payments and savings spent
They've got:
Murderous callers and life defense
Black money vig to circumvent
Just staying alive in any event

Become her Drill-O-saur!

Spam, we all hate it, but recently the spammasters have been getting so creative that they border on hilarious. I'll add any I find funny enough to warrant 1 minute of my time, on here. I may also combine some into my own version of spam poetry / story telling.

Become her drillosaur!

You can have stronger bone-on!

I love to bang her! For heroic manliness!

Sundays midnight

This probably won't make sense. I felt like typing a stream of consciousness.

It's zero out, snow fell by the lake today but only a few flakes, which looked like those pieces of styrofoam that get everywhere when you unpack a box too quickly, too rough because you are excited abut whatever is inside. They felt like that too but cold. Styrofoam never feels cold, it's always the same temperature, level. The sound and feel of it makes me tighten up like awkward comedy.

My blankets are high threat Egyptian cotton, and a cheesy colour of maroon like some 80's movie pimp would have. They are warm and comfortable but tonight I'd sleep without them if i had someone to replace them with. That would end up cold, but only in temperature, and cold is better than neutral, like styrofoam.

I miss Candice and Amy. It's funny how that is, considering over the last many number of years I've seen them both only a small percentage of the time, but female companionment with people i care that much about is like sex. If you haven't had if for long enough, you eventually stop wanting it as much, but then you get sweet session and you crave it like sushi.

Sashimi is the only food that could give someone a remotely comparable experience texture wise as what they should expect when going down on someone of the fairer sex. They'd have to warm it first, and maybe garnish with a touch of oil.

Fuck american pie, raw salmon baby.

That shit was disgusting, but why censor it, I don't care if people are offended by it, i find amusement in the offense of others. I feel like I'm living in a dream.

Everyone going to think I was drunk when I wrote this, but I'm not, in fact I'm totally sober. Jut in one of those states I drift in and out of where I feel like I'm watching life like an outside bystander, that it's surreal and not entirely sure things are actually happening or if it's a dream. I love that state, it's like watching yourself direct a movie of your life live and you are somehow in the audience, all at the same time. It makes it dangerous to drive sometimes as you loose a sense of space and depth a little, so you cut corners to sharp and that sort of thing. Fear will usually slap you back into things, and it's an ugly feeling.

I'm tired and since I'm already in bed I think I'll close my eyes for a while. I hope everyone reading this is happy, and their dream are sweet, or at least their semi conscious dream like states are. If they aren't, they should get in touch, we should walk together and figure out why.

Fuck, spelling error city.. going to have to spell check.

Food. Fatty. Food

They say a waist is a terrible thing to mind. Mind you, my mind minds my waist is no longer shredded like a washboard with quarters bouncing off of it. Frankly, if when I approach hippies and the Amish shirtless -which totally happens all the time obviously- they aren't trying to half submerge me beside their drying rollers and do their worst, and three cheese blend in a bag isn't jealous because I've reached a shrededness they cannot even dream of, I'm not satisfied.

So I'm going to get back to the ol' fitness and stop eating like a bodybuilder on a stacking cycle, who then never works out.