I Am Door Number Two

Right. How did the date with the old bitchy woman go? She started being a total retard, so I dropped her off at the train station, bought her a ticket home and went to Prague by myself. Actually, I never even picked her up for Prague. She was acting dumb and saying she left her passport in Italy so she couldn’t go to Prague she wanted to go to Spain instead. So whatever, bye and I went to Prague by myself and did the tourist bit.
Things I learned in Prague:
1 – My superpower of being invisible to women remains.
2 – If I could find a job there, I'd live there when I get out of the Army.
3 – Prague is phenomenal.
4 – The women, while ignoring me, are beautiful.
Basically, Prague is like Disney World without the rides. There is a lot to do and so many tourists it makes your head spin. I bought a bunch of crap and I stayed in a dope ass place. In summation, Prague rules and farm-land Germany does not.
I think I'd be invisible to women here too, except I have a job and I offer an avenue to get away from no where to these German whores.
Let's all move to Prague.
Where is next on the list of places I will go while in Europe? I think Paris. Maybe Rome, but soon it will be Afghanistan, which isn't in Europe, but you get the point.
I get promoted here soon.
My Internet still isn't up, nor is my phone, thus I blog at work.
I know for a fact that if I were to take some lamb, lettuce, tomatoes, onions and throw them on some bread with some ranch dressing it would not taste like a donner. Thus, the devil has his hand in it.
Stupid fucking Kenneth Cole doesn't deliver here. Now I am bootless. I fucking want Kenneth Cole to fucking die. Maybe not die. But, I would like them to deliver to me.
Me and Paul.
I hate my apartment.
My shit should arrive this week, so at least I'll have a bed to sleep on.
I wish this weren't here. I wish it would leave my gullet and leave me 40 pounds lighter. I'd run to the sun if it could help. I want it to die in me so I don't have to look at the diametric opposition in you. You. You who deserve what I have. You who own what I desire. You who know of nothing more than to hang children for the eternal taste of gratitude from the homeless. You who smell of sky. I know what it is called. I know what it is. I built it inside of the temple, only to have it destroyed by the television set. God built the daytime, man built the night. Man lit the night. God darkens the day. You look like hell. I crush diamonds in my eyes. The hate inside is the love of the innocents. The woman you whore out is your sister. I have calcium deposits growing on my skull, making me look demonic. You've had plastic surgery, an eating disorder, too much sun and enough coke to kill, making you look angelic.