~ by robert langellier ~
Looks like you dickbags are at unofficial right now.
I can tell because:
|nice one, Mada|
I'm not jealous. Unofficial last year was one of the worst experiences I've ever been technically a part of. I trust it's going equally badly for all you suckers. I don't need to be jealous. No, I'm much happier here. It's much quieter, and I can work, and Kristian got me all this wine before he left for EuroTour 2013.
While you guys are busy being wasted little socialites, I'm happily holing up. My roommates all left for vacation, and I've been avoiding all possible contact with these visiting friends from Brussels. You're here for the whole weekend? Yeah, sure, definitely we'll find time to meet up and hang out. Hahahahah. People are drags, and if they're not properly pissed off or completely calm then they're not particularly inspiring. They're not as complicated as these mindbending games of solitaire and they don't blow soft currents of wind on your palms as you shuffle and fold them into each other.
I read something on the internet today that if you're ever feeling down about yourself, imagine that someone somewhere has masturbated to the thought of you. Then I thought, taking into account the few people for whom that is not the case, the sum of sad negativity there still far outweighs the sum comfort taken by the masturbatees. I hope I'm on the right side. Please confirm in the comments.
There are shreds of cardboard all over my room.
Man I'm not even drunk, I'm just shitty.