I’m real tired, but I figure it’s too late for a lil’ sleepy now. It’s not like have anything real involved to do this evening. I just want to catch Laguana Beach because I haven’t seen it in a while. Speaking of tv, where do the people on Jerry Springer come from? Channel surfing today I saw a fat, meatball of a man with loose, cellulite arms and high jeans, pole dancing and unbuttoning his shirt, until the crowd booed him off. So while the people on stage were fighting because the drunk man had cheated on his wife with some other hoe, there was also maximum audience participation, as people could beckon Jerry over and whip out their tits, or like the butch lesbo did, pull down her pants a bit to show her disgusting ass crack. It’s a disgrace. Fuck television…not like Laguana Beach is intellectual, necessary stuff either.
I’ve got to tell myself to roll with it. It’s just the absence of someone that makes you want to see them, and then when they’re there, they’re just there. I don’t know what it was that made me start to somewhat obsess, and there’s really no reason to. Maybe I should blame my bad decision to read up in Sextrology. But should I really feel guilty about this? I should just shut the fuck up and be glad that I even met him and have been hosting him in my bed. My twin fucking bed.
Things go, life is fun. Hooray! (Not sarcasm, really. Just my pep talk to myself.)
