Right now I'm drunk off my ass on Gekkeikan sake, my personal favorite brand because it's crazy cheap and manufactured in Folsom, California. License plates, prison outfits and sake. Yeah. My name is Darren and I am fat but not as fat as I used to be. I'm pretty thin, relatively speaking. I'm not all that bright. I have a blog. My balls are gone, and sometimes I wear my girlfriend's panties. With the exception of my huge cock, the panties fit.
Right now I'm sweating a lot. I'm really drunk. Good thing I have a doctor's appointment on the morrow. I'm going to say funny and good things to that doctor. We'll laugh and celebrate some fucking social relationship and I'll fly home and enjoy being alone. Away from all you rubes.
In actuality, I'm just waiting...longing...for merciful death to rob me of horrific awareness. Jerry Lewis is an abomination. Michael Jackson has lung cancer from fucking llamas. Llama lung, they call it. But between you and me there are a lot of people who can go die for all I care. Bush, Rice, Cheney, the guy who sold me the wrong FUCKING bagel at Dunkin' Donuts.
Vampires. Teenage chicks want to fuck them. They'd rather fuck a damned, undead James Dean impersonator than the fat kid. Fuck the fat kid. He's there and alive, dammit.
I should go bed now.