In Nomeni Patri Et Fili Spiritus Sancti

Right. This here post if chock full of sneaky links. Deal with it. Accept it. Make it your own. Love it. Bathe in it. New Years. Fuck. I hate this crap. So I guess I need to make changes and all that good shit. Well fuck that. I like the guy I am. I like my life. I don't want to change; I want everything to be the same. I just want everyone else to change. I want to stop going to bars filled with douche. I want other people to pay for my car accessories. I want malls to turn into homeless shelters. I want to have morons stop telling me the evil things the Army does and how I am consequently evil for being in it. I want random people to show up at my apartment and cook me dinner. I want my nieces not to date. I want Bill Gates to give me an offensive amount of money. I want cigarettes and dip to cost less. I want people to stop being little bitches. I want the right to beat people with a pillow sack full of doorknobs or a sock with a cue ball in it because they need a beat-down. I want attractive women at the ages betwixt 37 and 52 to bone the living shit out of me. I want my high school, college and graduate school to stop sending me mail. Everyone can continue calling me LT. That's cool.
I want to read this more. I want to read this more. I want to read this more. I wouldn’t complain reading this once in a while. I want to find out if this is true and if it is I need to kill people. But I think it might be a skit or comedy movie. A hoax if you will.
Mainly I want to deploy, and stay deployed and come back when my contract is up. Then I want to get a job in Ireland and live quietly.
I also want to say, "Good Night." Instead of, "God Damn." Because saying, "Good Night" is funny to me.
I have this gold ring mixed in the greenness of my eyes that circles my pupil. Anyone care to tell me what that’s all about? Cocaine...you're a doctor of the eyes, tell me, and start using my comments section as your blog again.
I was next in line. Standing behind you. You smelled nice. You had blue eyes. I stared a little to intensely, but it was only to try and decide if they were contacts or not. I apologized and explained my actions. You smiled. Your insurance was expired so they wouldn't let you in. You left your phone on the counter, smiled at me, pushed your hair behind your ear with your hand looked me in the eye and dropped your head and exited. I picked up your pink razor and went through the phone book. Not one guy. But there is a home number. I'm going to call and say, "I was behind you in line, the guy in uniform, you left your phone and I have it and my ransom holding days are over. So how can I get this back to you?" I was thinking of your jeans and your shadowy hair. I envisioned your sweater that you wear tightly and well. I thought about your fingernails and how they were slightly different lengths, had no color on them but shined. I thought about watching you laugh as we sit at some café sidewalk. I thought about swimming in the sweat on your skin. I felt your breath on my neck and your fingertips on my lips. I thought about leaving and calling then. But the fat lady at the counter took the phone and said, "We'll get that back to her LT." Thank you fat lady. Thank you.