It looks really nice outside. I stepped out there for a minute. Nice, cool air and warming sun. My bike is sitting right across the room. I think I’ll imagine riding my bike around. Yeah. Ooh, but in this daydream my bike has a horn that honks like a duck. Honk. Honk. Just riding down the street honking my horn with all the good folks of the quaint little town of Grand Prairie waving to me and thinking, ” Well, he sure seems perfectly content. Maybe I’ll join him on his sweet little ride through beautiful, virginal Grand Prairie, Tx.”.
Call Just Brakes, because I really don’t care.
Adam and Eve should have used a condom.
I don’t accept friend requests from strange girls, because they always start talking dirty to me, and then ask me for my phone number, and every time I give them my number, they start sending me pictures of their personal parts. And I’m all like, ” Oh my gahhh!”.
It would be cool to construct an, “escape the cops”, booby trap route. Maybe several spread throughout the local area. They would be like dirt roads you veer off into when you’re being chased, and when the cop follows you, you simply press the garage door opener button to acitvate the whatever, falling trees, trap doors, ooh, maybe a tree chipper that’s full of pigs and human clothing, and it sprays all over the cop car and they think it’s people spray. Mmmm, good morning!
If I could follow conversation better, I might be better at keeping up with people’s drama. But, as soon as a person has been talking for more than fifteen seconds straight, I tend to fade off. I mean, what could you possibly have to say that takes longer than fifteen seconds? After listening to a story for more than fifteen seconds, it starts seeming like a super complicated plot to a spy movie. I mean, has anyone really ever followed a plot to a spy movie? I can’t ever tell who’s the bad guy or what the hell they’re talking about.
Drama is caused by people doing stuff and talking to each other. Just stop it. Quit talking and thinking stuff. Stay away from each other. Like right now someone is trying to talk to me, but I’m not responding. You should try it.
I can identify only three emotions, comedy, sex, and violence.
Cops should have to carry pink batons instead of guns, ( with swat teams still available of course, like in England ), and they should have to drive pink minivans instead of big black american muscle cars, and wear uniforms with colorful sequins instead of black ninja batman wannabe uniforms. Then, the position wouldn’t be sought out by a bunch of jerk-off dildo-slapping sheep-raping douchebag fuck tards. Then police would be public servants that were more helpful, and not a clan of dickhead assholes that goes around bullying everyone like a bunch of small-dick bull-dyke elderly-abusing ass-munch-fucks. And fuck you, and you, and you, and all you fucking cops out there and anyone who might support them. Fags!
