Anti abandons the internet.

location? downtown LA.
mission? put signs every-fucking-where.
field agent? king anti.
level of difficulty? ludicris speed.

sum it up for yalls? i'm diving in , head first, and full blown commando style. i'm gonna ride this shit storm out until i get my paycheck (if i don't die of sobriety... it's similar to starvation). i'm missing some of the KEY tools needed, like a cell phone that doesn't die after ONE call and/or HAS a car charger... the right kinda hammer (i needah 5lbs. mallet, and all i got is this chincy claw hammer)... pot... and like a helper monkey.

but fuck it, i'm king. or as paul the king of big screen tv's says, "i AM the king." nevermind... if you don't live here you have no clue who paul the king of bigscreen tv's is, and have never heard his annoying catch line at the end of his faggot ass radio commercial ad thingy.

by the way, fallbrook is a lovely, and beautiful place...
to poop on.

man i sure look happy in that sorry excuse for a picture. what was i thinking? "gee what a lovely necklace of bud leaves i have on?" or... "wow, i sure have great taste in eye wear!!"... it almost makes me wish my memory wasn't burnt beyond recognition. ALMOST. but not really.

ok i'm gonna go impale a sign into my chest, and maybe i'll finally get to go to hell. catch a ride in your OWN handbasket, you fucking posers.