The most disgusting phrase in the world is....

Vaginal Blood Fart.

It's also the name of the new restaurant that I'm opening up someday. See? I actually made the blog category relevant to what I'm writing. I don't tend to do that because, frankly, all of those categories are fucking retarded. Plus, I tend to go off on tangents quite a bit.

Anyhow, I finally, finally, finally have a bed that doesn't sink down to the floor. Last week I went out and bought a few eight foot long 1x4's and got them all cut short enough that they were an inch too long to fit in my bedframe. Talk about the story of my life. Luckily, Beaman came over and cut the shit out of the boards. Now they fit like a glove... or like a board into a bedframe and my mattress rests nicely on them. Now, I could, theoretically, have a girl over and fuck her brains out and I would break my bed. Of course, that's theoretically, because we all know that will never happen literally.

So, with a bed that works and a penis that never finds work, I find myself becoming more and more jaded. It's actually quite funny how bad it's become. Oh well. At least this jaded bitterness should fuel quite a few songs and maybe even a movie script. Who knows? I don't.

I've just grown very bored with writing this, so I'm going to stop. This upcoming weekend is going to fantabulous. Hello Bad Religion. Hello Pennywise. Hello pain killers and vodka. Hello waking up somewhere random. Goodbye memory.