I told you the first time we met. I am too good for you. You are not my type. But you remain waiting quietly, innocently, waiting for me to give in to my temptation. You know I'm going to give in, you cocky piece of shit. You know that I want this, but that I cannot do it. Oh, the familiar feelings of guilt. Why am I feeling guilty? It's not like you are showing any sign of remorse or anything.

Ok, I have dragged the metaphor as far as my tired mind can take tonight. Yeah yeah I finally gave you another post you arrogant slut of a journal. Enjoy it and get out of my mind.

Recent funny shit:
- Waiter comes with my check. I instantly hand him my credit card. He hesitantly takes and says, awkwardly, "uh, don't you want to see your bill first, sir?" Dammit, I'm in too much of a hurry for you mr. waiter dude.

- My eyes are, for the time being, fixed in the "people's eyebrow" formation.

- A story from a friend: Try plant shopping in a hurry... everyone's taking their sweet time walking around the flower/plant shop, looking for the perfect piece of beauty, and you're running around the place screaming "I NEED SOME FUCKING PLANTS!!"