fucking pompus elitest couples.

anger.

just come already period, im fucking waiting. work was me being cranky tonight. fucking rademes is really trying me this oh-so unrefined evening, and i want to cut his cuban latino bullshit lame pride throat, with the chefs knife he helped me pick out. its a mac, bitch.

bitchez bitchez everywhere, bitchez bitchez with no flare. buttons on my hat, define me, not enough colors. louder. chicks in bands are really appealing. pealing grapes is like creating eyeballs. it only makes since, sense, cents, scents to me.

yeah so then, things have been streching me really thin lately. the quality fades with the sincerity.