Fifteen Pounds of Fuck-Puppy in a Ten-Pound Bag (tableau_vivant) wrote,
Fifteen Pounds of Fuck-Puppy in a Ten-Pound Bag
tableau_vivant

Bah.

How am I stupid? Let me count the ways:

i. It is ten of five in the a.m. and I for some reason am still awake.

ii. I am realizing that I will have to muster some great strength within the next twenty-four hours if I am to get myself on any kind of reasonable work schedule.

iii. I always make my anxiety ten times worse than it is, and in effect I mess up my whole being.

iv. I actually went and joined The Facebook.

v. Not only did I actually go and join The Facebook (which, as Blake so eloquently put it, can kiss my Assbook), I located several girls who were mean to me in middle school and essentially ruined the scrap of self-respect I had in my formative years.

vi. Some of them are twig-thin and absolutely devastatingly gorgeous, which makes my heart bleed. I am not sure what to rip off first, my face or my legs.

vii. I still can't find my goddamn body wash. It literally slipped through the fucking vortex.
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