my work week consists of three days. i have a monday, a wednesday, and a friday. then i have two saturdays, and two sundays. can you guess where my priorities in life lay?
im certainly an individual who prides hisself on his ability to LOUNGE it. lounge-core, aggro supreme.
work is such a drag, i wish i could just write checks and spend on credit cards willy nilly like htere was no tomorrow and it wouldn't matter becaues my ultimate scheme to conquer the universe will reign over any prior wrong.
are you with me? or shall i litter the streets with your blood and guts? choose wisely my friend, because the pen is mightier than SOME swords, but not mine.
this is a fucking sharp ass sward attached to a machine gun and a chainsaw. so i dare you, I FUCKING DAR YOU... you son of a filthy dirst cunt of a bitch. (i hate her)
and i hate you.
someone walked past me, and i spit on them, and they asked me, "hey duder, why the fuck are you so damn mad all the fucking time?"
and i looked and them, and i stood back, and i sorta let my jaw drop while my forehead crinked up.
then i whipeed out an aluminum baseball bat and proceeded to turn the silver of the bat into brain-red. it's darker than firetruck red... and chunkier too...
anyways. on a lighter note, i hope you all die.
thank you, drive through.
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