Dear Diary,
You know I spend so much time talking about me and my day that I rarely ask about you. I never ask how you're doing or what's going on with you. Huh? Don't interrupt me. I never check in to see how you're feeling. And for that I... do not apologize. I don't give a f*** about what you're going through. I'm not hunting for any goodwill. I'm dealing with some heavy s**t right now. Huh? No I don't mean my belly you a**hole. I'm working on that. Just last night I did a bunch of sit ups and push ups. And get this, I did it with football playing in the background. That was a small victory for me, though the boys from Boston still didn't beat the Bills. Huh? Tom Brady is their QB, not Matt Damon you dips**t. Stop interrupting me before I go all Jason Bourne on your a**. I got up and took my a** to the store for fruit just to make TLO happy. She's been complaining about us not having apples for days so I went and got some fujis. Huh? How do I like those apples? Are you being a smart a**. Well since I answer all questions, including rhetorical, I'll tell you. I love those f***in apples. Huh? Why? That's a stupid f***in question. I'm not answering that. Douchebag.
No comments:
Post a Comment