Make sense of that title... I dare you. Prepare yourself for the ramblings of a twelve year old as I attempt to write a blog on the worse part of being half sober. Hey, at least I'm sort of finding the right keys... maybe. I'll find out tomorrow, probably around the same time you do.
Anyway I had stuff to right about, how like most of you I hate my job. Such a monotonous drudgery of a thing. It's like if you were to eat pie, and nothing but pie and continually to eat pie for the rest of my life... That was my day. Except not exceptionally good pie like four and twenty, more like home made stuff where the crust is like rusted cardboard. Admittedly cardboard can't rust but if it did you can imagine how bad it would taste.
Lastly friggen chris and his info services routine, I blame him for the ultimate destruction of todays crave train. We were destined for greatness, beyond greatness perhaps maybe even world domination with our awesome rhyming skills (that thrillz) and sexy physique (mine more so than chris) as well as awesome sense of humour, that no one else gets. Together like pinky and brain, except we will be successful. I just can't help leaving this blog without some sort of phallic overture so here goes:
Dubsy - Visionary, Shaman, Dream Weaver/Writer says:
is that the restaurant across the road?
Nolan says:
yep
Dubsy - Visionary, Shaman, Dream Weaver/Writer says:
I'm sure he gets plenty of italian suasage there
Dubsy - Visionary, Shaman, Dream Weaver/Writer says:
and not the type you eat... well not the type you find on a pizza
Nolan says:
hahah
Nolan says:
not the type u wanna find on a pizza
Dubsy - Visionary, Shaman, Dream Weaver/Writer says:
unless it's a sexy pizza
Nolan says:
u up for a sexy pizza for lunch?
Dubsy - Visionary, Shaman, Dream Weaver/Writer says:
yeah why not
Nolan says:
so our options r hot italian sausage, a long 12 incher, sushi or the duckman
Random Colour Dress: Yellow
Till Tomorrow
Dave
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Posts
No comments:
Post a Comment