I slept like shit last night, just laid in bed tossing and turning my ass off. I’m not sure what the fuck was going on and I didn’t like it one bit. Could it have been the chicken I cooked up for dinner? I was disappointed in the way it came this batch came out. Too many spices I think, or maybe just too much Old Bay, I don’t know, it just didn’t have the snap I like. Or it could’a been last night’s episode of Angel that upset my sleep. It ended with the whole group getting their collective asses handed to em by this badass muthafucker sporting red skin and horns. Sound familiar? And Cordy decided that if the world was gonna end she needed to give young Conner something to remember her by. I sure hopes some hot chick with a giant rack decides to fuck me when the world ends, I’d even go for a “really, I’ve had a bad day fuck”. Or was it because the crazy Italian stripper ex-roommate dropped in out of the blue? I haven’t seen this chick in years and she shows up at my doorstep with her kid in tow. Oddly enough I really think the reason she dropped by was because she missed my sage advice. She still looks good in a bad girl kind of way. And she still has the biggest rack I’ve ever put my head between. In fact they look even bigger, as I learned when her young son went to the bathroom. Yeah, she uncrated em for me. What? I was supposed to say no? But I think I owe my stressed out lack of sleep to the fact that I was uber disappointed that Michelle and I couldn’t make the trip to St. Louis. No Elvis or White Castle this weekend. I had fuckin car trouble the prior night so that morning I had to call her and blow the trip off. I was so upset. Here’s how pissed I was. Lately I’ve been dealing with the apartment on the second floor of my building. Every time these muthafucker’s are home they crank up the techno till it just booms thru my apartment. Normally all it takes is a phone call to get em to turn it down. But lately I’ve been feeling that why should I have to make that call every day? Inconsiderate muthafucker’s! So Sunday morning I’ve just gotten off the phone telling Michelle the trip was off and feeling very somewhat upset cause not only did I ruin my weekend but her’s too. And thru the haze of my anger I heard the loud thumping of techno music from upstairs, I couldn’t even hear the fuckin TV. I got up off the couch and flung open my door and stomped up to the second floor where I was greeted by this huge wash of noise. I knocked on the door but no one came, so I started tryin to put my fist thru the muthafucker. What? Still no answer, so I started punching the wall. I guess that got heard over the music cause the door swung open and there stood this skinny pale skinned foppish looking muthafucker. So off the good manners wall I fell, “must you be so fuckin loud? I can’t hear my fuckin TV and my fuckin roommate can’t fuckin sleep and it’s a fuckin Sunday! So can you please turn the fuckin music the fuck down? Thank you the fuck so much”! (I think I broke my personal best for using the word fuck in one take) So I went back downstairs and slammed the door. Cassie was in the living room and all we heard was the sound of our breathing. He actually turned the muthafucker off! Maybe it was my own guilt at that that made me lose sleep. Fuck it. peace