here's your suckerpunch

dear diary,
i've been stressed recently. i've been really stressed. i feel bad for getting mad at ozzie last night, since she really wasn't doing anything i wouldn't have done. i'm just overly stressed, as i previously stated.

of course, you've been wondering what i've been up to. here be a list of the finer point then (argh!):

1) i had sex while driving 65 mph.
2) i ripped the head off of a vampire doll and stuck my cock in the neck hole
3) i stole a glow-in-the-dark exit sign from an apartment building to hang in my living room
4) i came up with an idea for a book and tried talking to people about it. i realized then that in order to successfully write, you have to accept the fact that even your close friends don't give a fuck
5) i cried a long way home (on a 2.5 hour drive) after dropping my girlfriend off at the airport

that's enough things to hold you over. if i told you everything i'd done, you'd have no reason to return. actually, i've done very little of significance other than (and including) the previously listed. eh, fuck it. i'm out.