I realize that a large portion of this entire blog has been devoted to me, my crap room, my small bed, and my complete lack of poon. I have tried to stay my ground as long as possible on these matters, but reality hit me like a ton of....well, fuck metaphors, reality hit me like my sleeping ass rolling onto the floor last night.
I have woken up under many conditions before: headaches, nausea, spinning, random asian people's couches, but not since I was six years old have a I woken up in a desperate panic, clinging to my bed for dear life as though I was Sylvester Stallone in Cliffhanger. Although, thankfully, my struggle did not include an incorrigible John Lithgow with a laser-sight on forehead.
So to make a long story short (of course, at this point that is moot because you already read the long story, so adding the Cliff notes down here just makes it longer) my bed sucks, and not only is it too small for myself and a yet-to-be-determined chick, but it is too small for me. And I'm not very big.
Oh, and fucking sick wok! Way to go, somebody. Oh yeah, and "incorrigible" is a really hard word to spell.
Wednesday, July 18, 2007
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