“hee hee hee, ha ha ha”
this is what I’m sadly listening to at the moment, some girls who can’t hold their liquor and moronic guys thinking they have a chance. My neighbors to my left, or right, depending on where you’re standing, are having some bimbos over and to top it off, have their headlights on (why? I think they’re trying to impress them). Besides the laughter the light is penetrating through and leaving horrible shadows. I’m not a fan of moving shadows when I’m trying to sleep.
“hee hee hee.”
I swear on everything there is one girl whose laugh sounds like she is clenching her butt cheeks causing a vocal pitch reaction of some sort. I want to tell her to either fart, everyone is drunk no one will remember, or to stop trying so hard to laugh at everything these idiots say.
Have I become that person? trying to actually get some work done but end up thinking horrible thoughts to these fine people just trying to enjoy their friday night, considering that maybe this is coming from jealousy since I obviously have not acquired a new life yet?
Seems that way. I’ll throw being on my period as the scapegoat for this argument though. Curse you mother nature.
“hee hee hee. hee hee hee”
There it goes again! This could have been avoided if my sister and her fiance would’ve actually moved out. Last minute they decided it wasn’t for them and they don’t want to live right by the freeway, it’s too “ghetto” for them.
Pfft, someone forgot where they came from. Besides, I lived in an in-law with a group of Asians in San Francisco, I worked in the damn ghetto. On a daily basis walking to the bus down a sketchy street the hobos would tell me things. Not just give me looks or blow kisses at me. No, these guys were some courageous hobos. One told me he would love me right, because that’s what I needed. Another, who was in a wheelchair and with one leg, managed to wheel by me and said he would eat my pussy all night. Yup, San Francisco bums have got balls and get right to the point. I digress.
But no, my sister didn’t get the place. Which means I didn’t get her room. Which also means I am still stuck on my couch in a cold living room with the pleasure to listen all night to the croon of this girl who I’m on the verge of sticking a wine bottle up her ass.
I think when one visualizes sticking wine bottles up another’s ass, a line has been crossed. Unless they like it. Then that’s a different line being crossed on a different field.
This laughter is killing me. I wish I could share it with you. Then to top it off, the nazis dog is farting the worse, god-awful smelling puffs of gas ever to be puffed out of his butt hole. My mouth was open…I think I tasted it momentarily. Ugh.
Again, this would’ve been avoided. I would’ve had a room. No, I’m here with the dog, my nose under my shirt, and the cackling, trying to type out my last thoughts before my eyes fall.
And my last thoughts are…I’ve talked about ass a lot and being on my period makes me horny. Asses and butts are the words of the day/night. Use them well friends.