...you know, since today I was moping "it"(as she used to call it) a little bit, and with a freakin pair of scissors, god knows what was I about to pay for. I was like soooo into it, you know, so focused. And that fuckin tv commercial in the worst moment ever. Sweet juggs... it was beautiful until I dared to mop without looking... dear lord, not even to hitler, not even to my girlfriend's rebound fuckbuddy... what an umpleasant sensation.


...and this guy comes to me and tells me: does this look infected? I mean, I know he's my best budd and everything but... sweet jesus, I need to start dating whoever the fuck I see a chance with, it doesn't even matter if she's ugly, or if her cramps would be big enough to devour me. Otherwise in a couple years I'll be answering my budd's question with: I didn't notice this morning, darkness makes everything... I don't even want to imagine what this imaginary phrase would physically implicate!!

Resentful, of course.