You know how sometimes you just get that creative urge. When you are so consumed with jealousy and regret for your lost fame and lost opportunities? Its an amtrak and you've been drinking 7.50 bottles of beer. alone. but at least your years not living up to your potential have given you street smarts. you have the seat by yourself my friend. you've fucking arrived.
its those times when you wish you hadn't deleted your first blog in a fit of fear that the right wing would find you out at your supreme court nomination process. in your more lucid states you're too proud to imagine your own radical fantasies match up to Clarence Thomas's long dong silver pubic hairs.
Anyway my coworker today asked me if i was a female vanilla ice, which like ok whatever, but like ouch its a fucking brutally pathetic diss. i mean is this my oeuvre?
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