so i have this thing for monkeys. they're my favorite animal. grrrrrr-animal.
i love songs about monkeys, and monkey movies, and my mom used to buy me so much monkey crap once a year for my birthday, cuz she knew i was her little monkey, and i still am, but know i'm more of a stoned monkey than a little one. whatever.
these three motherfuckers are all i got left cuz of trusting that one guy to move my shit who instead left 90% of it behind only to get thrown away. before i get mad, lemme swing to a new topic. ajklsdhaljksdjh, deep breath.
earlier today my cousin and i were hanging off the top of 30 foot poles flapping in the wind trying to install car dealership banners. our ladders were too short, and we were all airborn with straps and knives, and power tools. and shit.
yes you fucking have to be james fucking bond to be a fucking sign guy.
and i fucking am, man.
so tomorrow i jobbb the signs in wilmington. or to us locals, "wilmasss holmes..."
15 signwalkers to babysit. and checks to be cashed. tomorrow will be action packed.
i better not have my cousin jenny's lazy ass boyfriend on my crew tomorrow. that lazy no good....
but i digress... i think brandon is fired for good finally anyways
i wanna make sure i sleep good tonight, so i've already started getting a nice buzz on with the little rum i had left.
now i got fifteen minutes till leno is on, and on mute, so i can listen to my musica. and smoke cigarettes really slowly with my eyes closed.
damn i'm one fucking lucky ass monkey sometimes.
i will smoke more pot now, and try and get high enough to write more.
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