fuck, this city sucks the ass of a beast
here's a lil' something to consider, when someone says, I can't breathe. I am nauseous. I can't breathe. I really can't breathe anymore. I have to go right now. I can't do this. let me go. I just want to breathe. you should definitely STOP TALKING because a panic/anxiety attack is on the horizon. just one of life's little side notes.
on an up note, a single chap, bit rough on the eyes, rolled up on a sweet ass vintage harley and paused to flirt with tittiestum. his bike was fabulous. I thought he was high until I saw the stuffed, hawaiian themed monkey on his back (that ain't a fuckin' metaphor, joke or innuendo). turns out that lil monkey is his faithful companion. as luck would have it, he was retarded. special. touched. short bus.
Comments
Um, "when he says" is what I meant.
That's screwed up about the panic attack. Here's what Dr. Procrastinator scrips for you, take George Clooney four times and call me in the morning.
"To cause to move or proceed slowly"
That's why they call me "slowhand".