So i brought my dad a 8 piece of gus’s fried chicken and a tall boy of pabst. Marla had been at my parent’s while i was in nola and she seemed really excited to come home back to my shithole, non airconditioned, overexpensive apartment. If i was here i wouldn’t have left.
No motherfucker can say im not a good son. Most people like me just called their poor dad on father’s day and say “sup, thanks for not aborting me, happy father’s day”. I was on a amtrak on the way back from the dirty south on father’s day so i tried to make up for it today.
I rolled deep into my parent’s house, ate mad chicken, drank a pabst with fathertoad, tried to fix their jacked up aol internet connection and came home with marla.
I left her at my the apartment and went up to reedmeisters for a drink with gatelyhore. I lost 2 games in a row to some shark and fucking left. I drank i dunno how many glasses of beer and 2 shots of jager which pretty much put me into…..where i am now now….plus wearing pants….i love you chester and gately
now im going to sleep.
i hate myself and iwant to die.
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