My Friday, with the exception of Kill Bill V2 sucked. No tax return for lap. I was prepared for that disappointment, and yet it still sucked. It was 'go directly to jail, do not pass go, do not collect $200' somehow sucking any sense of pride of accomplishments over the last year right out of my life.

Here�s the cosmos:

DID YOU THINK THE PROGRESS YOU HAVE MADE HAS BEEN ADEQUATE AND MERITED AWARD? HAHAHAHAHA.

Here�s me choking on Life�s dick like a novice. That bastard will never ever get off ever and let me just go to sleep with a fleeting sense of accomplishment.

No lie.

Imagine me with a chest full of rock salt. Imagine life is Michael Madsen.

Life somehow surprised my killing strike by alighting on tiptoe on my samurai sword and cackling wildly.

My movie better end with me driving off in a fucking baby blue convertible. And it better be a real �57 Thunderbird, not any of this retro re-issue bullshit.