I don't feel like writing anything because I think the post title (and the title to my upcoming hit single) say it all, but hey, i guess i have to write something. Unfortunately, this week has been rather uneventful again. I started doing cocaine again, but only for medicinal purposes, as it destroys my carnal desires, such as drinking alcohol and eating fried foods. I haven't really eaten much of anything this week come to think of it. I remember eating some tuna fish at some point during the week, but it was because I was having this bomb ass dream about making tuna fish, so I woke up and instictively made some tuna fish which didn't turn out nearly as good as it was in my dream (I've only made tuna fish three times in my life, and by making tuna fish, I mean opening a can of tuna, and putting it in a bowl with some onions and mayo.). You may be wondering why I even had tuna fish in my house. Well it's because I heard that's what pro bodybuilders eat for just about every meal. I was gong to start off slow and eat like one can a week, but I didn't have a can opener for a while, so the tuna has actually been in my cupboard for a couple months. This is really going nowhere. No one wants ot hear about my tuna escapades.
So the thing with cocaine is, unless you are a regular Bill Gates or John Q. Rockefeller, you have to eventually stop doing it because you will run out of moonmey and/or cocaine and/or your belongings. I am not an idiot, so I had to stop after I ran out of money (Not like my life savings, but you know, the money I had for bills and shit.)//////////////////
////////////Yeah so I wrote all of that a few days ago, but I had taken a few too many Xanax and I guess (???) passed out at some point or maybe just went to bed? I honestly don't remember, but I checked this site today to see what I wrote for the week and noticed nothing there! Then I checked the Draft section and sure enough this gibberish was there. I seriously, truly, have no fucking idea what I was talking about up there. Tuna fish?? What???
Ok, so the Bears played like the old retarded Bears I'm used to. They didn't really get beat by the Falcons. They beat themselves. It was horrifying to watch. I just remember laying there after my cocaine hangover all alone in the dead man insid e acoffin postion with no one to talk to, thinking about how I'm probably going ot die alone because I'm too fucking mental for any sane woman to deal with my shit. Seriously, that Jennifer Love Hewitt story is one of BILLIONS. Don't get me wrong, I can have sex that I don't pay for fairly often and I've been married before but I was probably a little less mental when I was married. It's the relationships I have problems with. I don't need sex. Anyone can have sex. Fucking fish have sex (I think, right?). I need someone to bake me cookies and tell me it's ok that the Bears suck and it's only a dumb game played by millionaires. I need someone that won't care when I spontaneously vomit from the pressures of real life every now and then. I need someone who will rub me on the back and say "baby it will be ok". That's real to a brother like me. Is there anyone like that out there for me? I'm starting to get nervous about it. I don't want to die alone. Pleas help. You can reach me at my Twitter: http://www.twitter.com/buncocky
I think the Bears play the Bengals next week. Who even cares at this point. I may not even be alive by then.
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