you ever wonder why we celebrate the beginning of a new year? we make these silly “resolutions” that really never hold up. three hundred and sixty five fucking days is a very long time. long enough to make the somewhat impulsive decision, which we decide will dictate the next year of our lives, to gracefully (not so?) get lost in the shuffle.
new fucking apartment, new fucking friends, new fucking college, new fucking fuckity-fuck-fuck.
i resolute like a champion. match me
verbal masturbation.
it’s kinda early afternoon or so and i’m still not entirely sure what the deal is going to be tonight. i know two things. (1) i will drink. (2) i will insert my penis into some woman that will hopefully be at least somewhat physically attractive. there’s a graph that looks like an X when describing the hotness of girl i will hook up while i am drunk. one line is the alcohol content of my blood, the other is the attractiveness of the woman I will be doing things with. the line that is headed upward, obviously, is the alcohol. the line headed downward is, well, i think you get the picture. hopefully I hit the equilibrium before things go (too) bad. i’m gonna wash my ass and get a decent helping of food to prepare for this evening. i got 10 bux says keish calls.
happy new years bitches
