Breathe if you're horny

What the hell. If you're going to read this, I seriously question your ability to handle free time. Seriously invest in a book or a hobby. That said, I think I should write more. Not just about the crap I pretend to write about when I put up an away message saying 'writing' when I'm really just scratching my junk and watching BET, wondering how they get women to degrade themselves like that. That stuff is gay. No, this'll be more high class stuff. Like a dump truck filled with sweet smelling pork salts, or maybe a couple copies of this month's Redbook.

Went to burger king today. A woman named Precious took my order. This is the conversation that took place in order to get my food:

Precious: Whadya want?
Me: Large. Number Seven.
Precious: Which is that?
Me: The number seven. Chicken fries.
Manager: Number Seven, Precious.
Precious: Three, Six, or Nine Piece.
Manager: It's a nine piece.
Precious: Nine piece large?

There's more story there, but you get the jist of it.

My first girlfriend IM'd me tonight drunk, saying it was her birthday and she was depressed. I don't think she had anyone else to talk to. Or maybe she felt like being random. On an unrelated note, I discovered today that women who need things and don't have the means to get them will often lean into you and place their breasts on your arm, back, hands, or whatever exposed regions of flesh you have. Does this method work? Couldn't tell you. It's my job to get them that stuff anyway, so I guess I would've no matter what. But let's bring this around to a larger discussion point: Will women use men? Yes. Will men use women? Never.

Reminders for the class before I let you go: Batman Begins on DVD today, Cantina on Thursday, and Charlie is growing back. Ok. Dismissed. Catch you all later.