The worst part about writing here is knowing I want to write here and then feeling like I have to write here. Then sitting in front of my laptop chatting to every fucking loser in my buddylist so I do not have to write here. It's like holding a gun to my head but making the bed and baking a cake at the same fucking time.

Anyways, seeing as how the last two days were generally pains in the ass I feel like I should say something amazing and prolific. All I can come up with is that my past is going to haunt me. I can be tired all day long and dying to sleep, but once I get into bed there is nothing I want to do less than sleep. This is a game I have been playing with myself for years. My sister is the same way, she sleeps on the couch almost always.

There is going to be no running theme in todays post and probably very little continuity. Oh well. I guess I will let this highlight the fact that I am a hack & a poor excuse for a writer. Moving right along, I have been listening to the same song on loop for three days. I forgot all about it until I stumbled upon it Sunday afternoon. My sister made my listen to it all the way to San Francisco this past March. I think it was March, whatever. Anyways, I do not remember much about San Francisco. I got really wasted and had the highest bar tab I have ever had in my life. Ever. It was amazing actually that I even got it as high as I did. Shortly before I was presented with the bill I punched some British mogul in the forehead for bringing up my tits. I like how I will bring them up a trillion times, but if you bring them up before I bring them up I will slaughter you. I guess this song reminds me that I need to run away more often than I have been and maybe I will punch people in the face while I do it. Maybe.