Fuck man. I am fucked up. Wasted. And my parents told me never to waste anything. Muahahahaha.
Drinking. Smoking. Fucking. Cough syrup. Eenie, meenie, miny, moe.
You wanna know what I love about my job? The people. Always. Wherever I go, I always end up with fucked up motherfuckers.
I'm like a freak magnet. High-strung, high-stress situations. Always attracts freaks. And me. Who's like, a freak, but cool and shit.
I'm so cool, man, I know how to make anything. work. Make anything work. Even remix reality.
Anyway, yes. Watching growth.
I am fucked up. I just cracked jokes at inopportune and inapproproate moments. And I can;'t see if the keys are all right. I can't see the IOUNHTASs. Can'rt seem them. Oh. They're all gone from the shit thing., the keyboard. Cause I typed too much.
I owned it. I rocked it. I did pretty good. Not too nbad. I'm okay. I'm cool. And I'm laughing at myself now. Man, this is quyite experiential shit.
Owh. I just puked.
Now, to bed. To BED!