Only when my clothes smell like burnt out cigarettes, do i start to hunger for blood.

Only when my clothes smell like burnt out cigarettes, do i start to hunger for blood.

I'm constantly meeting people who are travelling without any money; hitch hikers, travelers, adventurers.
part of me wants to be this free, another part wants the comfort of having a home in a big city.

My woman fried my brain toast, like a gelato

yo so theres a fucking french guy sleeping on the couch, im about 90% sure hes insane and about 12% sure hes gonna try to kill us, if not tonight... in the future.

we have to start locking the door and shit now, and we all know its not gonna last.

as if that wasn't bad enough im pretty sure he has been drinking my juice; if you know me you know that i cant drink the last little bit juice in a carton because im afraid of backwash... imagine someone elses backwash? how about i wash myself with bacteria and germs that shit is gross.

this blog isnt going as creative as planned... fuck, maybe i should just focus on going back to writing them when im black out drunk.

DO IT BEF0RE WE MATE!

I SWEAR I DIDNT KNOW SHE WAS A WHORE: IF SHE HAD TOLD ME BEFORE WE HAD SEX I COULD HAVE STOPPED BY THE BANK!
BUT IF ITS 2 IN THE MORNING AND THERE IS A MIDGET PIMP IN YOUR LIVING ROOM WITH 3 ROID JUNKIES ITS TIME TO PAY UP.

ONE OF THE GUYS NAME WAS ZERO, HE HAS PALE WHITE SKIN AND IS 8 FEET TALL, HE TOLD ME HIS REAL NAME WAS CHESTER, ... HE COOLED THE WHOLE SITUATION DOWN FOR ME AND THAN BROUGHT ME DOWN TO THE BAR AND GET ME A COUPLE OF DRINKS...

LONG STORY SHORT... I WORK FOR THE MAFIA NOW AND IM READY TO BLOG THESE ADVENTUROUS NINGHTS!

...SUCK MY DICK CINCINNATI !!!!!!!