Context: Remember when I said that I was going to upload the journal entries from that week I went M.I.A? This is the first one.
It's 39° out here. I'm snotting and coughing. I can see my breath. Yet somehow I feel pretty warm. I don't fucking know.
I don't know if this song has jackshit to do with what
I think it does but it makes for a good pun...
© Sony Music Entertainment
Anyways something caught my eye this morning.
The campus is dead. There's not a single fucker out here but me. All week around this time there's been athletes piling into the Rec Center.
Where are they now?
Did every single one of them decide to take Sunday off?
Surely just one person had to stay committed. Maybe they lock the buildings up on Sunday or something. I can't imagine that every single one of those athletes is either religious or too lazy to get up and work out on Sunday.
I don't want to sound preachy or trash anyone, but if you're going to live a lifestyle you gotta live it. Through sickness, and health. Through good moods and bad. Through madness and clarity. You can't let what you feel inside make you forsake who you are. Cause if you let your feelings define you then just who will you become?
No one. That's who.
But I'm not here to tell people how to live. I'm here to blog.
And this blog ain't funny any more. I enjoy writing it far more than before because I'm actually being authentic. But it just ain't funny no more.
Fuck it. I don't care.
The moon is covered by fog this morning. It looks like something of an 80's horror movie. I'd take a picture of it, if I didn't think it would look like complete ass.
I took this one, yesterday...
Speaking of ass, I wonder what Kendra Wilkinson is up to nowadays.
I got kicked out of the library trying to find this picture. You'd better enjoy it.
Last I heard, she caught her husband fucking a he-she (Can we still call them that? Is my blog going to be gone tomorrow morning?) and was doing the talk show circuit. I don't know how the hell that was supposed to help anything.
I'm not liable if you get cancer from watching this.
© Harpo Productions
I never understood that shit. Just imagine.
You, a reckless NFL wide receiver who's married to a former Playmate, get on there and Dr. Phil asks you "Why did you fuck that ladyboy?" And the answer is either "I married a Playboy Bunny, and you're expecting me to display normal sexual conduct? The fuck outta here." Or the more obvious, "I clearly thought she was a woman. I like women. I'm a simple man, so I fucked, my relationship notwithstanding."
© My Dick
You, a reckless NFL wide receiver who's married to a former Playmate, get on there and Dr. Phil asks you "Why did you fuck that ladyboy?" And the answer is either "I married a Playboy Bunny, and you're expecting me to display normal sexual conduct? The fuck outta here." Or the more obvious, "I clearly thought she was a woman. I like women. I'm a simple man, so I fucked, my relationship notwithstanding."
But they can't say that so he has to come up with an elaborate bullshit story about how he's been struggling with drug abuse since he was a three-year old in Beverly Hills. And then his dad wasn't around so he looked up to MC Hammer which made him start to objectify women and become a sex addict.
And it will sound so good. But if you step back and put things into perspective you'll scratch your head and ask "What does all of this shit have to do with him cheating on his wife with a transvestite?"
And it will sound so good. But if you step back and put things into perspective you'll scratch your head and ask "What does all of this shit have to do with him cheating on his wife with a transvestite?"
In my opinion crazy shit like this is why TV will never die.
And CNN reporting abject nonsense. That will keep it afloat, too...
© CNN
Peace out.
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