You're Not a Plate of Croissants!

You know those times when you're hungover and everything is just going wrong? You wake up, knock a glass of water over onto your phone, step on the cat, smash your shin off a couple pushies in the hallway, forget where the lightswitch is completely in the hallway, kitchen, then bathroom, piss on the seat then into the garbage when you overcorrect your aim, realize halfway through you meant to take a shit, crush one and it wont flush and stumble back to your room and mistakenly walk into your roommate's room naked before plopping down on your bed. Well you're an asshole, sorry about that, maybe you should have made a little room for the word 'no' last night. Pop Quiz, peer pressure ended in highschool dickhead, go back to Canada.

I don't do epiphanies, ease up on them assholes. Don't tell me how to live, eat a pasty (pas-tee), build a bridge, get over it, flick your bean, beat the panda, pull your goalie, burp the worm, drain the snake, pitter patter.

Well I'm off to a wedding I've got three days left before the opening of Antipodal Sorcery which if you've been paying attention, I've already inundated you with info about, like all my jerk dj/promoter friends do every day. Have a cow, Shit the bed, drink a Melbourne Tinny. Love me, I'm attention starved.

You're (Ur) Not a Plate of Croissants
Well Get Me Some Before I Chew MY Fucking Arm Off

No comments:

Post a Comment