Mhore’nin, mi preshusses!

Mhore’nin, mi preshusses!

I hung out with actual people last night.  Got drunk on the $10 from a birthday card from my gramma (opened it a month late) and a couple of old friends.  Pity companionship out of nostalgia!  I have pictures! that say we were friends, asshole.

I kept reprimanding him for referring to them as “butt-babies.”  I was like, “DUDE, quit being so offensive.  The PC term is ‘asshole babies’.  Fuck.”  Some people are so rude.

I would tweet, but my computer won’t let me.  Look, the real-life people around me are trying to starve me out of here.  All of the relevant people know me, or know who I am, yet nobody wants to have me do anything.  I’m not “applying” for any of your jobs any more.  In the time you’ve wasted morally chastising me for non-existent nothingness, I could have solved all of your “problems.”  All of them.  Yes.  Easily.

Are you all liars? All the time?  Like, pathological?  It certainly can’t be ruled out as a possibility.

I have hot friends, too.

Ok, so I don’t know what the last account of last night told you, but here’s the skinny:

I went to the bar.  Brung me lappy, for tweety fun.  Haddit.  Oh, that’s right.  You were there.  I looked up info on a cellie issue needs workin’ on, and may have fucked myself on ever getting it to work.  That, or I just gotta meet somebody who works at TracPhone.

Where was I?  Oh yeah, fucking B-dawg shows up.  Fucker lives in Chicago, but he sits down next to me and says hi.  Brought the kids back up to town today, he says.  I’d say I miss being around kids, but I’m around kids all the time.  No, I’m not interested in sex with pre-pubescents.  I haven’t ever met any real people who were, either.  For whatever that’s worth.

Sneaky spam.  Sweetie, if I wanted you to help me publicize something, I’d use it as an excuse to talk to you myself.  Shit, without your buy-in, say-so, approval, whatever… your massive friend list means nothing to me.  Werd 2 mouf.  Firm handshakes while looking each other in the eye.  But seriously, it’s an open offer.  I’m only interested in the real things.

And don’t act like you want to have sex with me if you don’t.  That’s not nice.  It’s lying.  Look, I can see you not having sex with me right over there.  It’s just mean.

≈≈<◄ █ █ █ █ █ ►> <« ╩═══   ≡≡>=÷ Ξ۞∑

Oh, whatever.  Tweet me a good one if you find/make one.

̿̿̿ ̿ ̿̿’̿’\̵͇̿̿\з==(•̪●)==ε/̵͇̿̿/’̿’̿ ̿ ̿̿

Oh, I really want to make this TracPhone do my bidding. its pretty, slidy, and free.

Tweeted by: @HumanBeam Watch out friends + photogs: Twitter Gets to Use Your Photos for Free (via @RWW)

My reply: the fuck they do @HumanBeam Twitter Use of Your […] (via @RWW) but what duzit matter?


check in here if you haven’t lately:

I have to close some tabs!!!


Ok. Off2Medicate! Mastur… Meditate. Yeah, right.  That’s the one.

i fell in love with you all over again today.

~ by LazyAssWasteoid on 2010-10-18 (Monday).

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