my flip-flop snadals are a dream come true. i love it that wearing socks with them is Lame. i hate socks. well, i hate that i have no clean ones.
what's so wrong with me throwing silverware away rather than washing it? shit... do YOU wanna wash that fork that has been sitting there for weeks with peanut butter on it?
it's too bad there's no service like molly-maid that would come and clean my brain out, instead of my apartment... naw fuck that clean everything. how much extra for the car too? i can't do it myself. at least not this baked. i should find a tweeker to give me some insta-cleanfreak-powder, and start up "vacuum-fest 2003"... but just thinking of that makes me feel sick. fuck meth.
today suuuuuuuucked, like soooo hard. on the way home i realized that i hate surface streets
more than than the freeways.
(insert proper analogy here to illistrate my frustration) i've never been thrown, and threw, so many middle fingers in one single car ride. maybe i was just being a dick a because i was so annoyed with having my whole days plans shot to hell with that highspeed blowout of my tire. i tried changing the tire myself and got as far as getting the truck jacked up, and getting the flat tire off. but there is an apparent design flaw with chevy trucks that works like this:
is you've ever had a heavy haul, your spare tire release is bent out of shape.
i spent like forever on the corner of carson and vermont
burning weed, tobacco, and time (thank god i had my pot and my piece on me)