How About You And Me We Go Get Wasted

Right. Next on my list is the person who is the owner/operator of that ass. I hate you. I don't know why, but I think it's because I mean damn.
My small pox shit fucking hurts. I think my arm might fall off.
So, the greatest thing ever happened this weekend. If you aren't in the know, well you've come to the right place. JUST CLICK HERE. This is like the biggest story in the history of the world. I mean ever. Aside from the second coming, whenever he gets around to it, I mean. This only proves that we are not alone and that it may yet be possible for me to hijack a spaceship, snatch up some friends and tour the galaxy. We will boldly go where we haven't and bone exotic species of intelligent beings. It will be glorious. If you read this, you are invited. And if you read this and have the ass pictured above, then I mean damn. Call me.
I was all hopped up on medication this weekend on account of the pain in my mouth and jaw. To pass the time, I watched videos on you tube. I decided to only watch videos that were long and I could watch/listen like it was TV while I played POGO. I watched like 14 hours worth of videos explaining the Mormon faith, and I must say that upon learning what these people believe, I might have to fight Paul my Mormon friend whom is actually my only Army friend. Let's just say Mormons are fucking strange. And if you are a female and Mormon, then I have no respect for you at all where your entire ambition is to remain eternally pregnant and populate a world. Mormons are fucked three ways towards the weekend.
At this point in my post I would like to take a minute and have everyone move their eyes to the above shown ass. I mean damn. Reflect on that.
I had this zit on the side of my nose over by my left eye. I went to pop it, and I'll be damned if the thing didn't turn into a GIANT scab covering half of my face. It is gross. I told my boss I fell and hit my face. My excuses for my injuries are getting ridiculous. My boss must either think that I am a battered wife or really am in the Fight Club. My boss is stupid.
I like to drench my french fries in malt vinegar. That's how I roll.
I sat awake smoking cigarettes in bed. I sat awake watching her sleep. I inhaled a long pull from a Marlboro as she moved her left hand across her pillow closer to her face. Her face. Her face resting on her pillow like an angel in the clouds. Her face that made me close my eyes because it was too much to take in. I prayed the sun would come up. The sun would bring her inhibitions up with it. The sun would dry the mortar in the bricks we laid the night prior in our hangover. The sun would shed light on the mistake she made and the luck that befell me. But for now the moon was still lighting the streaks in her hair that matched her bedding. The flaming red streaks which lived vibrantly in my soul. Flaming red bedding that abrasively clashed with the rest of the room. She slept and I smoked. Thoughts raced through my head. I thought of cutting off her eyelids so I could look at her blue eyes forever. But that was when I realized that the eyelids took them away from me making the times when her eyes were open special. I also realized that when she slept and the sight of her eyes was taken from me, I felt less alive. I closed my eyes and put out my cigarette and tried to envision her eyes. I couldn't. I couldn't even imagine eyes so beautiful. I got dressed and left. I saw her later that week on the subway on the way to school. She said she felt used. I was trying not to look at her. It was raining. She was wearing grey. I looked up into her eyes and it was as if the subway took flight and lifted through the clouds above the rain. I exited the train 4 stops early and walked to school.