confirmed. roger. she has a boyfriend. over. mayday. we're going down.

Every great story paints a picture. Let me get out my fucking brush and oils.

Just kidding, writing practice here. watercolors. watercolors.

Theres a young man. He thinks a good thing won't let you pass it by. He goes to West Covina today to pee in a cup. He strays around, knowing he will never see West Covina again in life. He has adventures dodging cops because his license plates are expired. He talks to the locals. The place where his pee resides is then left; he waves goodbye and he takes the I-10 home.

There's no way you can pee in a cup without feeling just a little bit nefarious.

Things I'm thinking. I'm thinking if you get an Adios Mother Fucker, and its the first drink you get, shouldn't it be called an Ola Mother Fucker?
I'm thinking about how skilled I am at opening del taco hot sauce, an ineffectual talent, but nonetheless amusing. I open it with my teeth and right hand, with one gesture spread the sauce flawlessly in line upon the taco in my left hand.

Other hidden talents I have include writing 3000 application essays to UCLA and not turning in a single one, making exact replicas of Baskin Robbins smoothies, and increasing my tolerance to alchohol over a 5 year interim.