Don't have these two problems when writing a blog.
I'm not exactly interesting unless I am drunk or in some manic or paranoia driven state.
I'm also not sure I actually understand how English works.
The latter is particularly true when it comes to writing. Honestly, it's a mess of comma's and forgotten periods, and do I put a fucking single space after a sentence or a double space? And where does the goddamn proposition go when I'm in Russia?. You see what I mean? I just don't need all these goddamn headaches. I also believe that was a run on sentence. I'm also not sure if it's okay to start sentences with the an and. Is it okay to end them with one? HOW DO YOU SPELL OK?
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| These guys don't see any smiles while reading my poor grammar |
So maybe I don't know the native language so well...Fuck it. At least I've started on the drunk part. Maybe that will at take care the interesting side of the coin. Being drunk is kind of what got me here tonight. That and I have some shit to complain about and we're both here so let's get to it. Oh, before I get started, Lead Belly and Woody Guthrie, and Mr. Tom Waits whilst drinking the fine, fine Oatmeal stouts of Samuel Smith can make one ornery and confusing sounding man. I pluralized that because I am drinking like 7 of them. NOW, on to the complaints!
The last several days for me have been one of my less glamorous experiences in the past few years. Lets start with this...
I tried eating like a retarded girl for the last six days. What I mean by that is that I was on a ZERO carb diet for nearly a week. I believe within the community of psychotics that prescribe to this practice it is called Keto. The concept sounds great, looks great, and gets some of our beautiful plump girls narrowed down for the breeders. The principle is simple. Eat no carbs, lose fat, be a hero, profit. In that exact order. The problem is and by the way, this is reality speaking, then entire concept is really good for nothing except for making you not shit, making you lose ten pounds of water weight in 2 days, making you hate everything, while also making you feel like a little baby bitch in the squat rack. Keto @ 3000 Calories is like eating a Triscut cracker and calling it a filet Mignon, except you can't eat the Triscut because it's the devil and you didn't have enough butter to drown the cow before butchering it. See what I mean? It doesn't make any fucking sense.
I hate Keto, I honestly hate everything about it. And to you Keto people who will jump all over this and call me semi mean spirited names for not sticking it out, you can go right ahead and get yourself fucked. Just so you know, I elected to eat an entire jar of Smuckers raspberry jelly this morning on a single piece of Italian toast after experimenting with your Mauthausen style bullshit. You people are officially fucking crazy.
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| It's an amazing transformation! |
This leads me to the second part of tonight's complaint-o-rama, and it's a complaint directly pointed to my ambiguously gay neighbor who doesn't read this at all. How's that for passive aggressive? Overall he seems like a really nice guy. He doesn't fuck with me at all, and always says hello in passing. He leaves shit all over his lawn and he really doesn't have any place to say anything anyhow. It's just that he and the closet homo guy that comes over to get cans off your front porch when he's not home had to put on an impromptu rock concert all night last night. And, holy shit was that terrible. These two guys are fucking awful at music. I'll assume that they weren't guy banging into a microphone while repeating the same guitar riff for 3 hours, because that keeping me up most of the night deficient of carbohydrates would have likely been a better serenade at 1:30AM to 4:30AM.
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| You are not... |
I obviously need to drink some more. Maybe even loosen the fuck up. Whatever.
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