After what seemed like the world's longest Thanksgiving, I'm now back to work and life and have to actually show up to my job because I'm techinically being paid for it and you know what? Some days I'd rather be a pimp because I don't have to do nothing but collect the money my skanks collect. That's a job I think I can handle. But even that sounds trying because it's still a job and that's what I'm trying to avoid.
I need to find a rich old man that wouldn't have a problem with me keeping The Pilot on the side because who would want to have sex with a rich old man if you could continue to pork your young, virile boyfriend? Me, I wouldn't want to have sex with a rich old man if I could continue to pork my young, virile boyfriend. Maybe I can keep him on the side. The old man or The Pilot. Either or, just as long as I don't have to work anymore.
Considering that my vacation decided it was going to start off with giant flaming balls of crap that shattered my soul and left my crying hysterically in a hotel lobby I'm going to have to say it was a success but an epic failure because it had to end. Vacation fail.
Of course I will let you all know why my vacation took epic dumps and left me crying hysterically in a hotel lobby and grocery store parking lot but today? Yeah, I'm not bothering with it because I've got to slowly ease myself back in to it. Read: Lazy ass fingers.
Also, I sort of set myself up with this blog to talk about poop so...poop.
That is all.