don't ever get caught writing about your dreams. save that for a conversation with someone who cares enough to listen. no one gives a shit.
i've been forcing myself to willfully choose wine over beer. (forcing myself to willfully...what [it makes sense, you're just really judgmental and i'm just really insecure]). delicious as fuck beer is dictating my life, and is also dictating the velocity in which my gut is expanding. i mean, wine is still great. it's just better waking up the next day after you've been fucked by beer. it's less painful. beer is like accidentally sleeping with your best friend. pretty awkward, but it's less of a headache and you might even stifle an awkward laugh. whereas wine is like sleeping with a total stranger with an STD. you wake up with the astonishment of life residing literally inside your eyeballs. like getting pounded on the head with bad dick. it's hard to laugh awkwardly because now you have an STD. alright, i'm not sure that these metaphors are at all accurate. in fact, i know they're not because i killed a bottle and a half of wine to myself last night and woke up with these very pestering but very senseless thoughts about my comparison of the said beverages. my brain is looping and hopping through hoops. i got twenty on it that i'm drinking beer tonight.
ps. i spent most of the late afternoon yesterday trying to pry open my last bottle of IPA with my lighter. i own about four bottle openers, but i was very determined to finally master popping a bottle with a lighter. the only thing i accomplished, unfortunately, was creating a pile of scratched-off plastic shavings from the lighter on my chest. i couldn't fucking do it. i tore the lighter in shreds. i resorted to a bottle opener in the end and fucking chugged in defeat. i'm a disappointment and i know it.
eat shit.
