I am an armpit dwelling troll

21 06 2010

Okay, that’s it. I am sitting here compulsively rereading my last entry and I hear this weird tippity-tappity noise. It’s my nails. On my desk. Dancing the Macarena. I am jittery beyond belief and wired to the point of near insanity. I am brewing myself a small cup of coffee to calm me down. No fucking way in hell do I want to take any adderall this late/early. Maybe soon I can sleep.

Also? It’s hot and moist outside. I opened the door to let the older cat in and it felt like I stepped into a giant Haitian whore’s armpit. You know…without the smell. Well okay that’s not really fair to Haitian whores or any whores anywhere. I am assuming that they stink, and they probably in fact smell better than me after a three day no-shower bender. Who the fuck am I to cast aspersions. Seriously. And why Haiti? Why did my brain use Haiti? Haven’t they had enough shit lately without me further attempting to tarnish them by sullying the reputations of their ladies of the evening? I am a horrid person.

I just cannot stop with the cerebellum froth. When I went to make my coffee, I noticed an ant crawling around the outside of my mug and I immediately tried to calculate how many ants I have consumed in such a fashion. Then, since it was attempting math-like stuff, my brain told me to fuck right off and started singing “Never Gonna Give You Up”. I am not shitting you. My fucking brain rick-rolled me.

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