Ahhh I've captured the tattered shreds of my social life, thanks to being unemployed. Okay so what happened over the weekend... hrm, Rich got sniped by some evil euro-trash [bleep] :(. Not good, bad evil euro-trash [bleep]. Why do I and my friends keep getting their heart broken? Annoying. So Rich sought oblivion at the bottom of a bottle of gin, and found it. And I re-discovered that vomit is a nasty vile thing. Paul repeatedly never called me back. Geoff developed a whole new way to rate fat women. Well, rate them, make fun of them, and make them drool, all in one? Not really sure, but his intensity while creating this was exceedingly amusing. It's the 'strips of bacon' meter. Now he prefers around a 3-5 strip bacon eater, I prefer vegetarian. Also, you ever see the dog snack commercial for those 'like bacon' treats? Heh... You know.... "bacon Bacon BACon BACON!!!!!!!" And the classic, 'I bet that fat chick couldn't tell this isn't real bacon.' Yes, my friends, especially Geoff (He's catholic, and probably gay, what do you expect?) are sick twisted fucks. Amusing? Oh yes. They are the type of crowd that, while I talk to a girl, one of them would walk and ask if they could shove their uncircumcised cack in my silky soft anal love tunnel. Basically, what I'm trying to say here, if I EVER have another girlfriend, EVER AGAIN, she will NEVER meet them. EVER!! And here I thought Rich had the right idea by keeping his evil euro-trash girl away from us. Guess that didn't help =. While my friends are somewhat, well... unorthodox, they certainly are loyal. That's an admirable trait.

On a more important note, I've been utilizing my unemployed time wisely indeed. I've made a few startling revelations! Such as; If you follow all traffic laws in Grand Theft Auto 3, your likely hood for being arrested increase dramatically. Due primarily to drunk cops smashing into your car at a red light, then arresting you for it. Mr. Ross must develop his ethics from this, obviously righteous, moral code. Hookers don't like getting into high speed car wrecks. Nope, not one bit. They equally hate being chased down with a bat after they flee the scene. They could have had a concussion and not been aware of the full gravity of the situation, I can't really hold it against them, you know, them only being a passenger and all. But I feel that justice must be dealt out swiftly and brutally. Hrm, what else.. Oh yeah, a very important one. When you're driving your tank around town, be very careful of old ladies, they will tank jack your ass, and then run you over. What's this world coming to? Worry not, I dodged her shaky attempt at muscling the tank over my skull, pulled the bitch out of the tank, and took a shotgun to her face. Now, some of you may say that this method doesn't really teach any lessons, that society would have better been served by giving her a stern warning with perhaps some legal ramifications to let the lesson sink in that stealing a man's tank is a bad thing. But, well.. fuck the bitch. I worked damn hard and killed thousands of FBI and other law enforcement officials to get that god damned tank, I'll be damned if grandma rose is going to jack it, yo.

On a more serious note, I can't sleep for shit. I know it's not the residual effects from being a graveyard worker, because I always reverted to normal sleep easily on my days off. I'm stressing, I admit it. This whole situation has me pent up. I did nothing but lay in bed for 10 hours last night, of which I got about 3 hours of broken sleep. Pretty pathetic. I am still amazed that Ross can sleep at night, but I know full well that he sleeps like a baby. Godhead doesn't worry about their moral or ethical choices, by design they are naturally flawless. I'd like to think he's a bitter sweaty man, hiding from his mirrors, terrorized by the possibility of catching a glimpse of the wretched creature he's become, tormented by the demons of the wrecked lives he's caused to make himself feel powerful and god like. But well, that isn't the case.

Ugh, Geoff just called, you know.. the bacon guy. I sounded tired, because I am, and he asked why, so I explained that I wasn't sleeping well because of all this shit. He said he'd 'pray for me'.... That fucking pisses me off! No, don't god damn pray for me, like (if the fucker even existed) I'd want his cacksuggin ass to pay any MORE attention to me? Isn't my life fucked up enough? Fucking Goats man, leave the easter bunny out of this!!!!! Phew... I feel better.

Oh well, off to Home Depot.

Migraines and insomnia,

-G