I don't really have anything to say this morning. I slept like shit and ate way too many cookies before bed so I feel like a fat ass.
I've spent this morning contemplating getting Dexter a ball gag.
Apparently World Cup Soccer (futbol) is a reality show about a bunch of pussified men who fall down and cry a lot if you brush up against them at all. I've seen ten year old girls play this game that are tougher than these men.
Dear American Dad, there is no such thing as an American Race. It's true.
My morning deuce is going to be epic. That's a thing kids say these days about their BMs, right? Anyway, last night went something like this:
Me: I want desert.
Kris: Me too.
Me: I'll go get cookies.
Kris: I'll preheat the oven.
Half hour later there were 48 chocolate chip/peanut butter cookies.
So now I have 36 cookies waiting to drop from my bowels.
It's a weird thing, suicide. It's like you decide, okay, this is where my story ends. And then the rest of the world you built get...
A lot of you have asked what happened that made me want to drink during the tour. Well, I didn't want to write about it because I didn...