I cannot do simple things, like writing

Alright, so I wrote a bit of my paper. It's aight.

I can't really concentrate at the moment. There's this thing about Phil Collins that won't let me write at the very instant. I must take time to enjoy his glorious man-voice and slowly fondle myself to the beat of the drums.

Ignore what I just said.

Anyways, I'm also distracted at finding out that I WAS a tool. Just someone to fill the void. Fuck. Out of all people, this WOULD happen to me. Oh well. I have to get over things.

Like my dad said: "The more you learn about women, the more you enjoy your car and your bass."

He's so fucking right. I played my bass with distortion and just went with the music. I have never felt better.

Now I end up on this post, telling all of you about it. Ain't it grand?

But oh well.

OH. OH.

Also, it's my friend Kelsy's birthday today, and I want anyone who reads it to give a shout. And I'm being serious. You don't even have to tell her. Just shout right where you are at. She's probably the most kickass girl you'll ever meet. She's like one of my best friends, and I'm glad I met her.

Welp, that's about it for tonight. Hope you all have such a good FUCKING SLEEP AND HAVE DREAMS ABOUT ROCKY BALBOA SHOVING HIS MAN MEAT UP YOUR ASS AND...

I'm done.