God damn

Oh my dear sweet baby Jesus. I'm dying inside my head, and because we're a week out to surgery now kids, I can't do anything about it. I have a headache the size of your mom, and all my other joints are fucking me out of my mind with pain. My elbow is excruciating. My elbow folks. How the fuck is that related to my knee pain I'd like to know. I left work at 11 30, although I don't really see what the point was. Hurt here, hurt there, who gives a fuck right?

IHOP was and always will be the shit. StapleGun, Hawaiian, another chick and I went there, and all was good in the world. There's nothing some french toast can't cure. I'd go there now if I hadn't just taken my sleepy pills. And if my stomach wasn't being a whiny little bitch. You shut up or I'll punch you in your crap-lousy face! Or something like that.

I have to admit I'm not much of a drunk dialer. Mostly my friends take my phone so I'll stop texting and be social before we've even finished the first drink. Crossbow does that a lot. I've drunk dialed MarkyMark, but I think that's it. I threw my phone across a yard and into a sprinkler once because my dear mother was calling and I didn't want her to know I was trashed.

Regarding MarkyMark, I'm not really sure what to say. MarkyMark lives 701 miles away from me, according to the almighty Google; and as a result, I don't see MarkyMark very often.

I'm going back to bed. Love to you all.