How on earth do they fit so much blood inside of such tiny prostitute bodies? Just thinking out loud here, by the way. I’m certainly not admitting to anything.
Also, I think I started eating ephedrine when I ran out of my Oxy prescription earlier today. All I know is I can’t urinate and my eyeballs feel like sandpaper. Lots of sweating too, but that’s not unusual. When you’re as fat as I am, you can break a sweat sitting naked in a 60-degree room. Trust me on that.
Anyhow: prostitute. Blood. Just one of life’s little does-not-computes, I guess. Good night.
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Categories: Dating, Drugs, Violence
I Am In Fact Ready For Some Football 
Y Is For Yacht 
U Is For Ugly 
Add As Many Lasers As You Want, I’m Still Not Using Them 