small brush shouldn't fuck with big timber

Death's Door, the view from the Spanish announcers table

Monday, December 23

Dumbass moves of the night. I’m lying in bed reading my new edition of Maxim, which I think is man’s answer to Cosmopolitan. Yes, no? Anyway I’m flipping pages and eating hot & spicy pork rinds and in the back of my head I’m thinking, “damn, these are really hot”. At the same time I took a huge ass bite and for some strange reason the fuckin pork rind shattered into a thousand pieces and all this hot & spicy shit went into my eye. Pain Pain Pain Pain! I’m rollin around in bed crumpling pork rinds everywhere and makin more of a mess and my eye is burning like a sonofabitch when I decided to wipe my eye with my pork rind encrusted hand. The dumbass pain redoubled its efforts and I jumped out of bed to run to the bathroom and throw water on my face, in my haste to flee to the bathroom I hit the cocksuckin doorjamb with my little toe. Now I had pain on top and pain on the bottom. And in the middle of all this my bladder decided he wanted some of the action. And as I’m stooped over the toilet with my head dripping water from stickin it into the shower and my little toe is doing that painful throb that only smashed toes can do, and my willy is on fire from gripping it with my hot & spicy pork rind encrusted hand. All I can think of is “no wonder I don’t get laid often”. Peace

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