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Nahhh. It’s not worth it. I know it. Don’t play this game. It’s in January. Assuming so; I mean, it’s at 20%. And I’m glad it’s that way. No PR. Straight fuckery. “Coggery,” yes. I should be asleep. I shouldn’t be drunk. Don’t worry about it. Hit up work on that hangover [NOTE: my stomach has a depth, and it’s tomorrow/today]. Let’s play that branding trading card game. “Like them nude cards people pass out in Vegas?” I got that yuuung Randal Nayrodian. Play it at coke level max. “30% unemployment”: scare tactics. I’m talking like 100% extreme red-eye, bed-to-drive-to-work-by-noon-style scare tactics. Oh, but okay. Let’s go to bed. Pretend you’re reading this. Act like you didn’t have a-one-too-many. She’ll smell it. She’ll wrap your everything around a circular cut hole in wood and make you beg for it. Where you going? Won’t you listen? This “The Loneliest Bitch.” And she just want what you can give. Express yourself. Get offline. Become one. This a Goaty Tape. Help the everything. THIS is Shark Attack Deathmatch. Evolve from Moppy to Chicklette.
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More about: Chicklette
