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Yeah, as if... I'm just drunk.
What else do you think I would be doing on a Sunday morning at 6.45 AM? Make that Monday morning. No work today because of Labour Day. At least those fucking socialist wankers are good for something. That and inventing the AK-47...
I should get one of those on eBay... Great stuff for moments like these. What's better than crawling home with double sight and painting the walls red with the brains of the fuckers that get up this time of the morning on a fucking public holiday and look at you with this expression like: "I will pray for you so that Jesus might guide you back to the path you've lost." Yeaaaaah, that's what I need: a life in which every single fucking hour is sheduled and each day looks like the day before except for the skidmarks you've left in your underwear that day.
That and wondering what's gonna point permanently to Australia first: your dick or your wife's tits.
Nah, I'm not being agressive nor angry. It's just what you get when you you find traces of blood in the alcohol running thru your veins while your biological clock is ticking towards morning temper time. You should see me in a few hours when the hangover kicks in. Now that's the perfect occasion to own an AK-47
What else do you think I would be doing on a Sunday morning at 6.45 AM? Make that Monday morning. No work today because of Labour Day. At least those fucking socialist wankers are good for something. That and inventing the AK-47...
I should get one of those on eBay... Great stuff for moments like these. What's better than crawling home with double sight and painting the walls red with the brains of the fuckers that get up this time of the morning on a fucking public holiday and look at you with this expression like: "I will pray for you so that Jesus might guide you back to the path you've lost." Yeaaaaah, that's what I need: a life in which every single fucking hour is sheduled and each day looks like the day before except for the skidmarks you've left in your underwear that day.
That and wondering what's gonna point permanently to Australia first: your dick or your wife's tits.
Nah, I'm not being agressive nor angry. It's just what you get when you you find traces of blood in the alcohol running thru your veins while your biological clock is ticking towards morning temper time. You should see me in a few hours when the hangover kicks in. Now that's the perfect occasion to own an AK-47
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