*trumpet in the background*

i have a feeling

tonights gonna be just another night

i am i weeely am

i just googled how to smoke a cigarette ok

are you expecting a long thought out post on how i smoked weed at work toda

the blogging clique ftw

a typical godaya

avant garde prick whose idea of a really cool life would be to fuck in an exotic location / place where village people crap. as opposed to those that get a thrill out of carving their names with a heart on a tree.

i would love to meet you and perform my stand up routine

things are so fucked its not funny anymore. constant nausea is killing me from within, the torture, the angst those pictures of smirnoff bottles, those fucking paupers that stunt, those faggots that are square enough to die in ignorance of fear.

surrounded by a surreal sense and beset on all sides by tyranny. music, media, race rules, cultural cringes, class, alcohol, drugs… blinded by a beat to happiness.

is god cramping our style or are these the forty years that we wonder aimlessly by. for someone to write a foot long poem on how god needs to go fuck himself seems emotional and thoughtless.

forget about our very souls and the pain that drives us to the answers that would make our world a better place to be in… at the movies. atheism and interest rates are nothing but scams. pyramid scams in essence. dyslexic beauty. synchronious irocy. one by one we weaken till nothing is left and all you want to do is escape from this bullshit. pretending all the while that everything is all right, a haircut would do the trick.

i have my porsche only because of the jones’s

whats really fucked is the fact that everyone sucks up to an idea which themselves are fucked by. beautiful system of control // garbage disposal.

cities are the most efficient of systems. where vice thrives

how i fucking met your mother. in lies in lies in lies. nothing new here. over and over again.

does this mean theres gonna be more lesbian scenes on house