sober and living it up

I sobered up about a month and a half ago and I’ve got to say, it fucking sucks. I do not feel better and im not seeing the world with fresh eyes and optimism shining out my ears. The real world fucking blows, i’m bored, horny, depressed AND I huffed glue yesterday. On that note though the first time I realized you could huff household shit, kill your brain cells and get a high in one session I thought I was the bloody messiah. It was probably one of the most life changing things i’ve ever experienced. I’m probably the only one in the world who fucking huffs paint these days, its incredibly easy to get coke in the bright shiny days of capitalism. The point of this blog post was to bitch and moan about being sober and yknow the fact I’m convinced its a scam.

Advertisements

Scummy Life Advice

Here’s my advice kids, and slightly more mature adults. Stop sticking needles in your arms. Also don’t take anything from anyone named “Randy”, it’s never good. My final important lesson of the day. If someone no longer loves you because your gender changed, they probably didn’t love you at all. Coming from a pessimistic point of view, don’t bother with people who don’t give a shit about you. You’re so much more important that someone else’s love. Live it up, life is short and we all die anyways.

Part 2
Don’t take shit from anyone. People talk shit, it’s human nature to talk more shit than you’re worth. If someone’s having a go at you challenge the man, because more often than not the balls of steel this bastard claims to have is nothing more than a thimble.

The Monsters in Suburbia

I live in the middle of shit storm nowhere, i’m genuinely confused where all these kids get meth. But I have a theory, all the drugs in suburban nightmare are cooked up in grimy monsters basements. The kinda monsters who ferment their own piss when they run out of beer. Its then shipped off to the general public claiming beauty and anti aging. It’s like this gimmick to get the rich middle aged housewives hooked. Soon the fermented piss monsters are rolling in dough, but that only lasts a few weeks tops. I mean they can’t go outside, the world would have an uprising because really nobody likes ugly green monsters. Very soon after one of the monsters kills the other and rips his skin into sheets, he then sends the sheets to be distributed around the country and thrown on bathroom floors. And that is where I found a blotter on a slightly repulsive gas station floor that I did in fact put in my mouth.

THICK THIGHS DONT SAVE MY LIFE

In a blog entitled “say I have birthing hips one more time, and i’ll gut you” i’m going to be going on a slightly coincided rant.
With having huge ass hips and being a dude i’m finding more than a few difficulties finding pants. On my latest shopping endeavor I decided the world had it out for me, and all my sins had finally caught up with me. Honestly i’m surprised it took this long for life to fuck me in the ass with like a fucking spearhead. I mean I probably deserve this unfair treatment i haven’t always been a gift to this world. Anyways my pants are cutting off ass circulation and I might have to resort to wearing a kilt and being #bodygoals to all the white girls out there, cheers.

I talk alot of shit for someone who still listens to Dot Dot Curve

I hate being forced to succeed it’s belittling really, I mean someone’s got to supply the scum of the earth business types with gay prostitutes. I saw it on animal planet, if the corporate men don’t get cheap sex the whole system will collapse. But that’s like a sure fire way to disappoint my parents, actually solid I think their already disappointed. Honestly I would be too, their only son regularly leaves the house resembling Paris Hilton’s pussy, so much fucking glitter. Speaking of reasons I disappoint my parents, my best friend dabbles in the area of furries and I still have a pink sidekick, its 2016 scene is dead.

Art and Its Creators

Like all artists I’m completely perplexed with life and suffer from crippling loneliness. Expect for the artist part, I would like to think I at least have the qualities to becoming a great. In the sense “the great” did more drugs than they had fingers and threw up 8 times a day. I can always make my rise to fame on “Cops” right? If I had fucking cops with cameras chasing me I would whip out a tit and run. But with my luck they would probably catch me looking like one of the creatures from “The Decent”, stoned out of my fucking mind. Maybe I would get famous for “the world’s ugliest boy”.