Why Must I Listen To You Evil Monsters?

Right. Well. I don't know. You know what is fucked? This. This whole fucking thing. Sometimes it isn't about you. Fuck it. It's never about you. I don't even know you. You don't know me. What do you know about me? You know that I am in the Army and I like women. I like to write about random women I see, figments of my imagination or women from my past. I interject shit. I listen to music and write to wherever it takes me. The monsignor is getting the point. Stop it. This is not a polite suggestion. This is a core of behavior. I don't care what the fuck you think of me. Let me save you the time, I am an asshole. So go the fuck away. Do not procreate. Do not Pass go. Just sort of, go.
Who the fuck are you people? Thatgirlwhooncecravedyourcock? What? Lies. I don't know you. I don't even know who you are, but I doubt you thought more highly of me than I do myself.
If Manning plays Manning in the Super Bowl, I will never watch another NFL game as long as I live. I promise.
I saw a good man this weekend. He doesn't read this nor know about it, as I don't tell many people about this. Sam is a good man and apparently, a cheap drunk. We drank on empty stomachs or empty minds. We had a good time and his girlfriend puked on my car. Thankfully she used my Kevlar helmet when she puked inside my car. So I had to wash my car and it looked great, then it rained. He is going to the same place I am, so we decided that it is imperative we live together. I was hoping to live alone, but I can make extra money this way. Which is key. Money is good. I also have to start saving for my boat.
I am moving back to Boston after my time in the Army. Bet. I miss that place.